


Sine memoria

by Zpqa



Category: Battlestar Galactica, Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-12 19:26:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 39,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4491816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zpqa/pseuds/Zpqa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An experimental last minute cure for Laura's cancer leaves her alive but without any memory of the cylons' attack on the colonies or life thereafter. Can Bill help Laura piece her life and memories back together or is destiny determined to keep the two of them apart? The story starts just before Daybreak ends, and takes a sharp turn away from canon right there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Cure

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by an "imagine your OTP" post by the description of: "Imagine Person A of your OTP waking up with no memories of their family, friends, or Person B".

While the joy over the newly found planet was still erupting among the crew, Bill could not take his eyes from Laura. Frail and exhausted, she had no strength to partake in the celebrations, opting instead to recline on a makeshift bed of blankets and pillows that Bill had ordered to be brought to the CIC for her comfort. It was a compromise he had been forced to make, knowing that while leaving the CIC at the moment was not an option for him, he simply could not let her out of his sight. Not now when she looked so weak that any minute could be her last.

"You really love her, don't you?"

Bill was startled out of his gloomy thoughts by the voice of one of the cylons addressing him. A Six model - Caprica, Bill supposed, though they all still looked identical to him.

Not even slightly in the mood for this particular conversation, he only grunted a noncommittal response. How he felt about Laura was probably obvious enough by now for everyone to see, but he had no wish to talk about it now. Least of all with a cylon. The Six's next words, however, took him by surprise, piquing his interest.

"We have technology that might be able to save her."

Bill's eyes shot up to meet the cylon’s, a surge of mad hope quickening his pulse for a moment until reason again caught up with him.

"I thought you all were done with resurrection," he gnarled. "And besides, Laura is not a cylon and never will be." Gods knew that allowing cylon technology to take over Galactica had been difficult enough, but he could never allow the same happen to Laura. It would kill him as surely as this cancer was now killing her.

"I am not talking about resurrection," the blonde replied calmly, eyeing Bill as if considering whether her offer was worth pursuing further or not. Eventually she decided to continue: "I'm talking about what we call a reboot."

Bill was not sure he had heard the cylon correctly. “A what?” he asked, incredulous. Computers could be rebooted, he knew, and cylons probably too, but Laura...

"A reboot," the cylon repeated matter-of-factly, the ease with which she was throwing the word around only managing to rile Bill up further.

"And how do you propose to do that?" he nearly spat out. "Laura is not a machine you can just shut down and restart."

"No, she is not," the Six agreed calmly, not rising to Bill's ire. "And my intention is not to give you false hope, because the procedure is far more complicated and risky if performed on a human. We have made some tests, and…"

"I don't want to hear about those tests," Bill quickly shut her down before she could finish, remembering with a shudder Kara's reports of the human test farms on Caprica after the cylon occupation.

"All I am saying is that this procedure can be successfully performed on humans," the cylon continued, undeterred. "It is risky and there is a possibility that your president will not survive the procedure, but if she does survive, she will be cancer-free. She will still be every bit as human as she is now, only…." She trailed off, glancing at Bill with an unreadable expression. He thought he saw something akin to compassion in the Six's eyes.

"What?" he asked warily, calmed somewhat by the cylon's assurances but still suspicious.

"She may survive, but it is likely that she will lose some part of her memory."

Bill opened his mouth to speak, to protest, but the cylon continued before he could get a word in: "She will not stop being the person she is. We have enough test data to support that. But it is likely she will not remember anything from the recent past. That is the one downside of the reboot we have not been able to master yet when performing the procedure on human subjects. The reboot requires the subject to be, as you said, shut down for a short while, with all functions of the body and brain halted. For cylons this presents no issue, but for humans this is the part where access to recent memories seems to be lost."

"Are we talking...months or years here?" Bill asked hesitantly, no longer able to dismiss the idea outright. Perhaps it was his desire to grasp at any straws thrown at him, just to keep Laura with him a little longer. He should have hated himself for it.

Perhaps he did.

"It depends on the subject and the length of the operation," the cylon explained, seemingly unaware or simply not interested in Bill's inner turmoil. "But because president Roslin's cancer is so far advanced, and we will have to remove all of the cancer cells while her body is shut down, the procedure is likely not to be one of the shortest ones. I would say she is likely to lose years rather than months of her memory."

Years. It would be as if they had never met. Bill glanced at Laura across the room, her eyes closed as she was attempting to rest among the bustle of the CIC.

"But this operation…", he forced his attention back on the Six. "It would not be adding any cylon technology into her body or brain?"

"None," the cylon assured him. "Our technology would merely be used to shut her body down, to remove the cancer cells while she is down, and then bring her back to life, if possible. Nothing we do would remain inside her after the operation….whether she lives or not," she added quietly.

Bill remained silent for a long while. His eyes found Laura again across the CIC just as she opened her own. Her tremulous smile at him was all it took to make Bill's heart contract in his chest, love and the fear of losing her fighting for dominance.

"She would not remember me," he said at last, his eyes still on Laura.

"Or anything of what happened. It could be a terrible to shock to her," the cylon agreed. "But at least she might live."

Bill turned to look at the cylon again. "And what are the odds of her surviving, if she undertakes this operation?"

"Normally the survival rate has been 60-70%, but given her long illness and frail condition, I would not promise above a 40% chance for her."

Bill sighed. The odds were not great.

But they were still infinitely better than the 0% chance she was presently facing.

Whatever the odds, though, the decision was not his to make.

He would have to talk to Laura first.

 

* * *

 

 

When Bill recounted his conversation with the Six to Laura, she listened to him in silence that stretched on long after he had finished talking.

"This Six...Caprica...do you trust her?" she finally asked, just when Bill had begun to think she had no intention of even discussing the proposal. They had returned to their shared quarters and Laura was lying in the rack, with Bill perched on the edge, holding her hand in his.

The question she had asked was the same he had been asking himself ever since his conversation with the cylon.

"I have thought about it," he said at last, giving it one more round of consideration before continuing: "No matter which way I look at it, I can't see what motivation she could possibly have to lie or to deceive. Not anymore when we have all agreed to start over and settle peacefully on this new planet." He paused and, with a sad smile, ran a hand down Laura's cheek. "It's the risks she talked about that I'm more worried about."

Laura quietly nodded her head, leaning in to his touch.

"I likely only have days to live," she said then. A simple observation that Bill was not sure how to interpret. It pained him to hear nonetheless.

"You could have years if this works," he pointed out.

"Maybe," she mused, taking in a labored breath. It also pained Bill to see that while there probably was a great deal she could have said on the subject – in fact, he could almost see the wheels turning in her head – even a single word now appeared to be difficult for her to produce.

"Laura," he whispered gently, lifting his legs and moving to lie down on the rack beside her, enveloping her in his arms. "I want you to know I would never force this on you." He pressed his lips against her neck. "We don't even need to have this conversation if you don't want to."

She hummed at his words but did not immediately speak, the silence broken only by her wheezing breaths.

"What would you do if the choice was yours?" she finally asked, shifting so that they were now fully facing each other.

"But it's not my choice," Bill replied without hesitation.

"What if I was unconscious and you had to make the call?"

She didn't say the words "like last time" but Bill could sense them in her question nevertheless.

He also knew exactly what he would do. What he did then and what he would always do.

"I would ask them to do whatever they could to save you," he replied, his voice nearly breaking. It was the truth and he couldn't deny it, no matter how much he would like to have been less selfish.

To his surprise, Laura only smiled at him in return, resting a hand on his chest.

"I might wake up and not even remember you," she said, and through the melancholy in her voice Bill could almost swear he detected a hint of mischief. Maybe even a challenge.

"But you would be alive," he stated simply.

"And what if this time I fall in love with Saul Tigh instead of you?" Now she was definitely teasing him.

Bill smiled even as he could feel his heart contracting again at the thought of losing her. Of losing this - the smiles, the banter, the sharing of everything they were or ever could be.

"Ellen might not be very happy about that," he replied as soon as he was able to speak again, attempting to reach Laura's level of levity but not quite managing it.

"Hmm…maybe not," she replied at last, scooting a little closer to Bill, growing serious again.

She did not bring up what it might feel like to wake up to a strange world with no memory of how she got there, surrounded only by strangers, but Bill knew it must have been on her mind as she silently sought the comfort of his embrace.  
Apart from the possibility that the operation itself might kill her, it was the thought of how traumatic the recovery would be for her that caused Bill the greatest apprehension. As much as it would pain him to be wiped away from her memories, he could only imagine how utterly terrifying the experience would be for her. It was almost enough to make him abandon the whole idea.

Almost.

When Laura finally spoke again, Bill knew their minds had been on the same track.

"You might learn some new things about me," she said, thoughtfully. "Of who I was…where I was in my life some years ago."

"I know you were the Secretary of Education," Bill replied with a smile. How could he ever forget the first time she boarded his battlestar. Then his smile faded as he recalled that it was another thing that Laura probably would forget.

"Did you know I was frakking the president?"

Laura's next words took Bill by surprise and his hand that had been drawing lazy circles on her arm came to a sudden halt.

"Adar?" was all he managed to say out loud.

"I thought you should know….in case I wake up thinking he's still…part of my life," Laura replied, carefully studying Bill's face as she spoke.

He had no reason to be jealous, but the thought of Laura in a heated embrace with Richard Adar was an image Bill could not conjure up in his mind without a sense of unease. He also could not stop himself from asking one question:

"Did you love him?" It shouldn't matter, but for some odd reason it did.

Laura smiled, tracing the suddenly stern line of his jaw with the tips of her fingers.

"I was infatuated once," she replied, and Bill could feel the soft hum of her words on his skin before it was followed by the touch of her lips. "He was a charismatic man…" Another peck, this time on his mouth. "But towards the end I think it was more just a habit than anything else. Whatever it was, it was not love."

Bill accepted her explanation silently, thinking briefly of his own marriage to Carolanne.

"Anything else I should know?" he asked then, pulling her a little closer. He couldn't help but note that the way the conversation was going seemed to indicate that Laura had already made up her mind.

She only smiled at his question then – one of her enigmatic smiles. "I suppose you'll find out," she said before closing her eyes.


	2. The Operation

When Laura was wheeled in the next day, Bill was told her vitals were already close to shutting down. Without the operation, she would likely have lived only hours longer.

Bill could only thank the gods he had never believed in that they had made it in time.

Still, the wait that followed was nothing short of agonizing. Minutes rolled into what felt like hours, but Bill had very little sense of the passage of time as he sat outside the operating room, questioning the choice they had made over and over again with every passing minute. It had been Laura's choice, perhaps, in name, but he knew better than to believe she had agreed to this only for herself.

No, Bill knew well enough she had chosen to do this for him, and as a result she might end up dying alone on an operating table, surrounded by cylons, when she could at least have died peacefully in his arms instead.

When the tears eventually came, Bill didn't even attempt to stop them.

"I'm sorry, Laura," he whispered when his despair got the better of him, but there was not reply.

Some time later Lee stopped by, ostensibly to give him a report on the progress of the settlement on the new planet - _Earth_ , Bill has decided they should call it, for Laura - but Bill knew Lee had really just come to check on him. He appreciated the gesture even as he had no energy to put on a brave face, even for his son.

Lee sat with him for a while until his duties called him away again.

Saul would have sat with him, too, but Bill had insisted he be at the operating room instead, ensuring that everything was done as it should. It was not that he truly doubted the other cylons, but having Saul there to oversee the operation still made him feel more confident about the outcome.

And yet, even with every precaution taken, it took all Bill had in him to remain seated where he was, especially as the time kept ticking away. He would rather have been in the operating room, holding Laura's hand if it was all he could do, but he had been told in no uncertain terms that it was not possible. He would only be in the way.

It had been a big enough concession on the cylons part to allow Dr. Cottle in to observe the operation. Bill suspected they had finally simply given up trying to persuade the stubborn old doctor who had insisted he was Laura's personal physician and would, after all, be the one taking primary charge of her recovery when, or if, she came through alive. It had been one of the conditions Laura had insisted on before agreeing to the operation. She might not remember Dr. Cottle on waking up, but having grown to trust him once, she had believed it likely the old doctor could gain her trust again. Even more importantly he was human, and waking up to a new world where nothing made sense, being immediately surrounded by cylons might not be the best way to start.

The plan was that if Laura pulled through, she would remain on Galactica and recover there for as long as necessary before moving planetside. Cottle and Ishay had both agreed to stay on board too, to oversee her recovery, but apart from them and Bill, everyone else would settle on the planet without delay. Locked on orbit and with no military threat in sight, there wouldn't even be need for a skeleton crew to remain on board anymore. Once Laura was well enough to live on Earth without medical assistance, they would abandon ship and the fleet would finally be flown into the sun as had already been decided.

All of this, however, remained hypothetical while Laura's entire life still hung on balance.

At last, when Bill had all but given up hope, the door to the operating room opened and a cylon model Four stepped out, removing a surgical mask as he exited the surgery. Bill was on his feet before the cylon could close the door behind him.

"Is she alive?" Bill blurted out the only words he was able to speak, the only question that had been plaguing his mind for the duration of his long wait.

The cylon looked grave, but just as Bill's heart began to sink, he gave a slight nod.

"We were able to remove the cancer and revive her," he said without preamble. "It was widely spread and the operation took longer than we had expected, but our scans show that no cancer cells remain in her body now."

For the second time that day, Bill found himself silently thanking the gods that weren't supposed to exist.

"C-can I see her?" he asked then, his voice suddenly shaking with the mixture of relief and still present fear for Laura's well being.

"Soon," the Four replied. "Colonel Tigh sent me to give you the news as soon as we had her stabilized, but we are still making sure her vitals are strong and steady enough for her to be moved to the recovery room. You will be able to see her when she is there, but we will keep her unconscious at least until tomorrow to allow her body and brain some time to recover before we wake her up."

Bill nodded, trying to take in everything the Four had said.

"And she will recover?" he asked after a short pause, still needing the assurance.

"We have not lost a single patient once we have been able to revive them after the reboot," the Four replied without hesitation. "She has made it through the most crucial part and she will live, but only time will reveal the extent of her memory loss."

"Years, is it?" Bill asked, feeling dejected as resignation began to seep into his heart. In the beginning he had clung on to a hope that even if Laura would lose some of her memories, she might at least still recall the early parts of their budding friendship and trust, but the longer the operation had taken, the less he had been able to hope.

"Most likely," the cylon soon confirmed Bill's fear. "This was one of our most difficult operations."

"And is it possible that any of the lost memories will come back over time?"

"We do not have conclusive data," the Four replied, preparing to return to the operating room. "We were not able to continue our tests long enough to effectively observe long term recovery, but it is possible that over time she might gain some of her lost memories. I cannot promise that she will, though."

When the Four left, Bill was left with a whirl of emotions ranging from relief and joy over Laura being alive, to fear and apprehension over the possibility that she might still be lost to him. Faith and circumstances had brought them together once, but would she even look at him twice in a world where the survival of mankind no longer depended on the two of them?

_"Don't let go of me,"_ she had told him in their final minutes together, and Bill understood now that she had been talking about their life after the operation, if there was to be one.

He just didn't know how he would be able to hold on to her if the Laura who woke up decided she didn't need him in her life.


	3. Waking up

_"Can you open your eyes?"_

The voice that first penetrated the mist of Laura's consciousness was unfamiliar and seemed to be coming from a great distance. She thought of opening her eyes, but her lids felt heavy. Remaining in the tranquility of the white mist felt like the easier option, but then the pestering voice spoke up again, this time sounding much louder and clearer.

_"Can you hear me?"_

Suddenly there was no calming mist anymore, only a sharp white light trying to seep in through her still closed eyelids. Laura could no longer ignore the voice that was now repeating the first question.

She tried to respond, but soon realized to her chagrin that her mouth was as dry as sandpaper. Instead of proper words, she only managed a soft mumble.

"Mmhh," she hummed somewhere in the depths of her throat that was as dry as her mouth. How long had she been sleeping anyway?

_"She's waking up."_ Another voice suddenly spoke. This one was deep and rich in texture, Laura observed, but as unfamiliar to her as the first one. Had she fainted? Had she been hit by a truck? From the way her body felt, Laura guessed the latter.

With some effort, she finally opened her eyes, blinked at the light that felt too bright, and then closed them again. The quick venture was enough to inform her that at least one of the men was likely a doctor. He was wearing a white lab coat.

When she opened her eyes again, she struggled to keep them open a little longer, allowing her eyes to adjust to the light after a slumber of....with a sudden jolt Laura realized she had no idea how long she had been out. Or what had happened, for that matter.

As Laura's eyes darted from one man to the other with rising concern, the man not wearing a white coat reached for her hand and pressed it gently. Only further confused and a little frightened by the stranger's unexpected act of familiarity, Laura quickly pulled her hand away.

"Water..." she managed to croak, shifting her eyes towards the doctor instead. The white-haired man nodded towards the disconcerting stranger by her bed and, within seconds, the stranger had brought a cup to her lips, helping her drink the much needed liquid. She was too thirsty to refuse.

Once Laura was done drinking, the doctor stepped closer. She was struck by the strong smell of cigarettes emanating from him.

"Do you know where you are?" the man asked. 

Laura glanced around. The bed she was lying in was clearly not her own, and the curtains surrounding it were blocking much of her view of the rest of the room, but it looked quite...clinical. A monitor of some sort was bleeping on her right hand side. That she was lying here, being asked questions by a man who appeared to be a doctor could only really mean one thing.

"I'm in a hospital?" she offered her best guess, her voice still hoarse but at least no longer refusing to form words.

"Yes...in a manner of speaking," the doctor replied, making a note on whatever chart he was holding. Laura assumed it was her patient file. He then looked up at her and continued: "Can you tell me your name?"

Laura frowned, wondering briefly whether he was asking because _he_ didn't know, or because he suspected  _she_ might not know.

"Laura...Laura Roslin," she replied, glancing at the stranger on the other side who had suddenly taken in a sharp breath and appeared to be curiously affected by her words. Unsettled by the raw emotion she could see in his deep, blue eyes, Laura swiftly turned her attention back to the doctor who again was scribbling something down in his notes.

"Good...good," the man mumbled as he kept writing, but Laura had yet to find anything good in her present situation. After all, she couldn't even fathom how she had ended up in this hospital bed. As she tried to cast her mind back to the last thing she could remember from before, she couldn't grasp any particular memory that would tie her to a specific time.

"Doctor?" she asked apprehensively, feeling something akin to panic rising inside her. "What happened to me?"

The doctor glanced at the stranger and then back at Laura, clearing his throat.

"Well...Ms. Roslin...Laura..." he stalled. "There's really no easy way to tell you this...."

"Tell me what?" she demanded, growing increasingly concerned.

The doctor sighed, setting down his chart. "To put it bluntly," he said, looking at Laura sympathetically. "You are suffering from amnesia."

"Amnesia?" she repeated, feeling a sense of dread swell inside her as she allowed the meaning of the word to sink in.

"It means that you are suffering from memory loss," the doctor explained, misinterpreting her reaction, and suddenly Laura felt a touch of annoyance at the man apparently assuming she had had all knowledge knocked out of her.

"I know what the word means," she said sharply, knowing even as the words come out of her mouth that she sounded needlessly petulant. There was a sound almost like a muffled chuckle that came from where the stranger was sitting, but this time Laura took care not to be drawn to look at him again. If she was suffering from amnesia, the man could be anyone to her, and something in his eyes had seemed to suggest he was supposed to be more than a passing acquaintance. Laura was not ready to deal with him yet.

The doctor, too, had clearly noted her little show of attitude, and judging by the slight turn of his lips, had not taken it personally.

"I'm glad to hear that," he said simply. "I will still have to ask you some more questions, though, to check your cognitive performance and determine the extent of your memory loss."

Judging it best to remain silent this time, Laura only nodded her head in acquiescence, quite keen herself to know the results. She had  _thought_ her brain seemed to be working quite well, but then, she had no idea what day it was or how she had ended up where she was. 

"Some of the questions will be personal to get an idea of what you can remember," the doctor went on to explain, "but first I will be asking some very simple questions that test your basic knowledge and logic, just to be sure all the normal functions of your brain are operating as they should."

It seemed simple enough.

"Fire away then," Laura replied, leaning back against her pillows.

Looking down at his papers, the doctor smirked and then read out the first question: "If I have ten apples and give you two, how many apples will I have left?"

"Really?" Laura asks, raising an eyebrow. She had expected to be asked to name the first five presidents of the Colonies, or something equally dull, but this was bordering on ridiculous.

The doctor only shrugged as if to say he wasn't responsible for making the questions, but Laura wasn't sure she believed him.

"Just answer it so we can move on," he suggested without rising to her bait.

"Eight," Laura replied with a sigh, accompanied by a roll of her eyes. "I didn't realize we were in kindergarten."

The doctor only harrumphed something that sounded like approval and then continued down his list, testing her knowledge and logic with a series of questions that Laura was able to answer without difficulty. At one point he also asked her to memorize a name and an address and appeared pleased when Laura was able to repeat it to him later without error.

"Well, young lady," he said at last, sparing what appeared to be a reassuring look at the stranger who still remained by Laura's bed, though he had kept silent throughout the exam. "There appears to be nothing wrong with your cognitive functions, which bodes well for your future recovery. Now we just need to determine how far your memories currently reach."

That was more easily said than done, Laura thought rather bitterly.

"I'm not really sure what the last thing is I can remember," she replied hesitantly. If she had aced the first part of her cognitive tests, this next part was where she appeared set to fail.

"I suspect you don't remember who I am," the doctor said, immediately confirming her concern. It hadn't even been a question, and Laura didn't wonder why. During the entire time he had been examining her, she knew she had shown no sign of recognizing him. Nor had she even been aware that she _should_ have known him. Even now, as Laura tried to look at him more closely, all she could see was a man with white hair, wearing a white coat. A man who probably smoked far more than he should.

"No, I have no memory of you," she said at last, trying to keep her voice calm. "Judging by your choice of words, I assume I probably should though."

"Discerning as ever," the doctor replied with a slight smile. "I'm doctor Sherman Cottle, though most people call me Jack."

"Pleasure to meet you then, Dr. Cottle...again, I suppose," Laura replied, attempting a smile in return, but unable to hide her apprehension. "How long am I supposed to have known you?"

The smile on the old doctor's face was replaced by a look of sympathy. The fact that he didn't appear keen to reply did not seem to bode well.

"Nearly five years," he drawled at last and instantly Laura's eyes widened in shock.

"Five years?" she gasped and then buried her face in her hands. "Gods..."

_Five years._ Laura had thought she might have a gap of some weeks, or maybe even months in her memory.How could she just suddenly lose five _years_ of her life...or possibly even more?

Unable to keep her eyes from the stranger any longer, Laura looked at the man again, desperately trying to find a familiar feature or anything that could trigger a memory from these forgotten years.

"Laura.." the man spoke then, breaking his long silence. His rich voice was as tender as the look in his eyes, but instead of giving her the comfort he was probably aiming for, his attempt only served to make Laura feel more uncomfortable.

"No, no..." she shook her head almost frantically. "I don't know you at all."

"It's okay, Laura," he said soothingly, but she could tell her words had stung him. "My name is William Adama, but you call me Bill."

"Bill," she repeated, tasting the name in her mouth, hoping it would help to serve her memory. It did not.

A quick glance at the man's hands told Laura he was wearing a golden wedding band, and she was relieved to be able to immediately ascertain that there was no ring on her own corresponding finger. Not that it necessarily meant anything as whatever rings or jewelry she might have worn, would probably have been removed during her stay in the hospital. Either way, she didn't much like the options she could conjecture. It seemed that she had probably either married this stranger or moved on from Richard to frak another married man. Knowing herself and her disastrous love life, she rather suspected the latter.

"I'm sorry," Laura said at last, a thousand questions whirling in her mind. _Are you married? Are_ ** _we_** _married? Are we frakking? Is there any chance you're just an affectionate old man who found me lying in a curb and brought to a hospital?_ For obvious reasons, none of them struck her as a particularly great conversation opener. Finally she settled on the same simple question she had already asked the doctor: "How long have I known you?"

"As long as you have known Jack," the man - Bill apparently - replied simply. "Or a few days longer," he added, glancing at the doctor. "We met..." he paused, apparently trying to find the right words. "I was a commander on a battlestar, and you were the Secretary of Education...do you remember?"

Laura paused. Yes, she remembered being the Secretary of Education, and if she hadn't just been told that at least five years had passed of which she had no memory, she would have assumed that to still be her position.

"I rather thought I still was the Secretary of Education," she replied at last, "but I suppose Richard...President Adar is no longer in office." She glanced at the man again and then shook her head slightly. "I'm sorry but I still don't remember meeting you."

He smiled sadly, the tenderness in his eyes making Laura absurdly wish she could somehow cover herself. In a way, she felt almost naked in front of this strange man who seemed to know her so intimately and of whom she herself had absolutely no memory.

"I understand, Laura," he said, his voice betraying the hurt she knew she had inadvertently caused him. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a white, slightly crumpled envelope. "We knew this might happen and you wanted to explain it to yourself in your own words if it came to that," he explained as Laura eyed the envelope warily.

When he offered it to her, she took it with uncertain hands, not sure she wanted to know the story it contained. What in the name of Kobol had happened to her and how had she known about it well enough in advance to be able to write a letter for herself?

Of course, the only logical explanation was that whatever had happened had not been an accident. Further than that, she could not venture to guess.

"Can I read it alone?" Laura asked, glancing at the doctor rather than the man who had given her the envelope. 

Dr. Cottle nodded his head and then glanced at his companion.

"Bill..." he said, tilting his head towards an opening in the curtain. "You heard the lady." Turning back to Laura even as Bill seemed reluctant to rise, he added: "What you're about to read will probably shock you in more ways than you can imagine. You may want to spend some time alone, but we will not be far if you need anything, and I will be back in a while to perform some more tests."

Laura nodded, eyeing the letter in her hands with growing trepidation. Whatever it contained, she feared nothing would ever be the same for her again.

 


	4. First steps

_Dear Laura,_

_As I write this letter, I have reached the final stages of terminal cancer and am facing an experimental, highly risky operation as my only hope of a cure. If you are reading this letter, you have survived the operation but have lost too much of your memory to know the people who now make up the fabric of your life._

_As I cannot know how far this memory loss will reach, there may be gaps that this letter and my journals will not be able to fill. For that I am truly sorry. The most important thing you need to know, however, is that nearly five years ago a devastating event took place that changed all of our lives for good. What our lives were before then - what your life was - no longer matters, and that's why I won't focus on that part of your life. Suffice it to say that before this all took place, you were the Secretary of Education under Richard Adar's second administration. Long before that, you worked as a school teacher, and I hope you can remember at least some of those times. If not, let me just assure you that you had a good life - not perfect, perhaps, but satisfying in many ways._

_All of that changed nearly five years ago when the Cylons attacked suddenly and without a warning, simultaneously on all 12 Colonies. Our way of life and nearly the entire human race were obliterated on that day. The few who survived could only flee for their lives or face certain death with the rest of humanity. Whether it was right or wrong, we chose to flee. That was the choice made between me (you) and Admiral William Adama (Commander Adama at the time). But I am now getting ahead of myself._

_Just before the attacks, you had traveled from Caprica to attend a decommissioning ceremony aboard an old battlestar called_ Galactica _. By this coincidence, accompanied probably by any number of other unlikely events, you were the most senior member of Adar's cabinet to survive the holocaust, and thus sworn in as the new President of the Colonies before the day was out._

_You may guess that the last five years have not been easy, but after initial mistrust, you have always had an ally and friend in William Adama - Bill - who has shared all the burdens with you. My journals through these years will tell you far more when you are ready to read them. I understand that even digesting the contents of this letter may take some time._

_My time and strength are running out and I'm afraid this letter has probably left you with more questions than it has given you answers. Still, I wanted to be the one to tell you, at least in the barest of terms, what has happened, and I wanted you to know that this was my choice. I chose a chance at life, and I hope you may eventually come to cherish it even as you have to pay the heavy price of all those lost memories._

_Bill knows where my journals are, and with my permission he has also read parts of the contents. He will be able to answer most of the remaining questions you will probably have. If you choose to trust just one person in this new life, trust him as I have come to trust him with my life and my heart. Because I know myself better than to think that I could simply tell you how to feel, I will not tell you to try to love him - I can only hope that time will do for you what it already did once for me._

_Yours,_  
_Laura Roslin_  


***

Laura had read the letter more times than she cared to count, already knowing it by heart almost word for word.

Still, she felt no closer to reconciling herself with the contents of it than she had on the day she had first read it two weeks ago. More than once she had considered asking Bill Adama for her journals to start parsing together the still missing information, but she had not been able to bring herself to do so yet. She wasn't sure she would ever be ready for the details they were likely to contain.

All twelve colonies gone. Caprica, her home. Her friends and the people she had worked with. All gone. As far as she knew, there was nobody left in the world whom she could even remember meeting before.

And yet she was surrounded by people who all seemed to know her. Laura had never felt more isolated in her life.

Then, to add to her frustration there was Bill - or Admiral Adama, as it turned out. Head of the Colonial Fleet, or what was left of it. Nearly retired now that the remains of humanity apparently had found a new planet to live on - another thing she had a hard time wrapping her mind around.

Based on the letter she had read, Laura was certain she and Bill had been lovers, but she had not asked her supposed lover about any details. That the relationship had been more than the kind of affair she'd had with Richard seemed evident, judging by his behavior towards her - not only the way he looked at her, but also his silent devotion that he exhibited by never being far from her presence, always anticipating what she might want or need, even when she gave so little to him in return.

At any other time, she might have thought it sweet, but in her current state of mind, Laura found it only suffocating.

It was not that she had any reason to dislike the Admiral, but everything about his presence - even his very existence - was more than she felt herself ready to handle. Even without the ever present confusion caused by her amnesia, she was simply not used to having a man in her life - not in the way Bill clearly wanted to be part of her life. The fact that she didn't even know the man at all only made it that much more difficult to accept.

Admiral Adama came to visit her every day, without fail, usually checking on her more than once a day. He would sit by her bed, ready to talk, but Laura never said much to him, and never really welcomed his presence or encouraged his visits. He never said or did anything untoward, but the look in his eyes never left Laura uncertain of how he felt about her, and her own inability to return those feelings always made her feel uncomfortable, even guilty. Privately she suspected she rather resented him for seeming to know so much more about her than she knew about herself. It was not a sentiment she was particularly proud of, especially as she could see she was causing him pain by pushing him away, but she could not help that she simply found him, and everything he brought with him, too difficult to face just yet.

Richard had never looked at her the way this man did, and Laura had been perfectly fine with that.

An easier object for Laura to focus on had become regaining her physical fitness. It was the one part of her new life that she felt in control over, and with the help of doctor Cottle and nurse Ishay, she was making good progress with her daily exercises, always pushing herself a little bit further than would even have been necessary. On the day she had first woken up, she had felt weaker than she could ever recall feeling in her life, and even getting up on her feet had been a challenge she had nearly failed, even with support. Now, two weeks later, she was lifting small weights and taking daily walks around the deserted corridors of this battlestar that, as she had been told, no longer held any inhabitants besides herself, the doctor and the nurse, and Bill Adama.

When Laura had asked doctor Cottle about the arrangement, he had told her they were simply waiting for her to be well enough to settle on the planet they were orbiting. Apparently they had decided to forego all modern comforts in favour of a simpler new life, but Laura had not yet dared to ask what had prompted the drastic decision. All she knew was that once she was on the planet, there would be very little medical assistance available to her, so the sooner she could get herself in shape the better. Maybe feeling the ground under her feet and being able to breathe fresh air again was what she needed for her mind to start healing as well as her body.

 

"I haven't seen you this far from the sickbay yet," a voice suddenly intruded Laura's solitary thoughts. She did not turn to look at the speaker as the deep, gravelly timber could only belong to one person.

"I hope I'm allowed to explore the ship, Admiral Adama," she replied, halting her steps long enough so that he could join her. She knew he wanted her to call him Bill, but she had come to find more comfort in the formality of his title.

The Admiral smiled at her in that peculiar way of his that never failed to make Laura feel guilty, even though she was sure it was never his intention. The entire specter of his emotions was simply far too openly written on his face whenever Laura allowed herself to look at him, and somehow it always made her feel like she should apologize for so steadfastly keeping him at arms length.

"You are always welcome to any part of Galactica," he replied, bringing Laura's wandering thoughts back to the conversation at hand. His smile had already faded at the face of her impassive response.

"Thank you, Admiral." Laura could tell herself she was being nothing but polite, but she was also fully aware that her distant politeness was not what the Admiral...Bill...would have wanted from her. The fact that she was not sure she ever could give him what he wanted was the main reason that always made her uncomfortable in his presence and made her avoid him whenever she could.

She had no wish to cause him pain, but there was nothing she could do to help it.

Today she had left the sickbay just before his usual visiting time, hoping to avoid another awkward hour sat together in near silence, but it seemed the Admiral had caught up with her.

"How are you feeling, Laura?" he asked her as they now settled into a leisurely pace, passing over to a part of the ship as of yet unexplored by Laura.

"Pretty good, thank you...Bill," she ventured to use his given name to assuage her nagging guilt. "Physically I'm feeling better every day." _Mentally, not so much,_ she thought wryly but kept it to herself.

The Admiral seemed to light up again at her words. "I'm glad to hear it," he replied. "Cottle tells me he has ran several tests on you during these last two weeks and all of them seem to confirm that the cancer is completely gone."

"He talks to you about my test results?" Laura asked, pausing. She had already surmised that little seemed to be withheld between the doctor and the Admiral about her medical health, but she could not help but feel a touch of annoyance at such blatant disregard for doctor-patient confidentiality.

"I'm sorry if that bothers you," the Admiral replied remorsefully, as if reading her thoughts. "You had named me your next of kin before the operation and gave doctor Cottle full liberty to share everything concerning your recovery with me." He paused, glancing at Laura, and something in his eyes tugged at her sense of compassion. 

"If you no longer wish that to be so, you should talk to doctor Cottle," he added softly.

Unable to hold his gaze, Laura broke their eye contact, biting her lip.

_'If you choose to trust just one person in this new life, trust him as I have come to trust him with my life and my heart.'_ Her own words from her letter came back to remind her.

She might not be able to make herself love him, but at least she could try to give him her trust. Perhaps she owed that much at least to the part of herself she had forgotten. The part of herself that evidently had loved this man.

"It's okay," she said at last, starting to walk again but fixing her eyes on the corridor ahead rather than at Bill. "Let my former permission stand."

They continued their walk in silence until a wall further ahead, covered in photographs and various little messages, caught Laura's attention and she started towards it with increased speed, alight with curiosity. 

Bill followed her a few steps behind.

"It's the memorial wall," he explained from behind her, his voice, if possible, even graver than usual. "For those we have lost."

The pictures seemed to stretch far into the corridor, many overlapping each other. Laura felt a shudder run down her body, faced for the first time with some tangible evidence of the events that her letter had alluded to and which Bill and doctor Cottle had occasionally mentioned in passing.

"So many," was all she was able to say for a long time, stepping closer to the wall and running her fingers over the photographs, some already faded, some clearly new and still fresh.

"Some are loved ones who never made it out of the Colonies," Bill explained, moving to stand beside her. "Many we lost during the years after the fall."

And yet it could only be a small fraction of all the people who had perished in the attacks.

"Did I..." Laura hesitated. "Did I ever add anyone on this wall?" She thought of her parents and sisters, all lost many years before the attacks, as far she could piece the timeline together. She was grateful that at least her memories of them were still intact.

"Just one, as far as I know," Bill replied, his voice now close enough to startle Laura.

Marcia? She wondered. But she would not have been carrying a picture of her friend with her. Richard? Laura shook her head. Surely not.

Taking a few steps to the left, Bill pointed towards a picture on the wall, beckoning Laura to come and look. She followed and fixed her eyes on the photo Bill had singled out.

It was a photo of a young man. An earnest, innocent face.

She had seen that face before.

"I...I think I know him", Laura breathed, momentarily elated by the sense of recognition before the meaning of the photograph once again caught up with her. "I mean, I didn't know him well," she added morosely, "but he had just joined the ministry as a summer intern, and would sit in meetings and take notes sometimes. I...." She closed her eyes, trying to carve something more out of the fledgling memory. "Billy!" she finally exclaimed. "Billy Keikeya," she added softly, running a finger down the photograph.

"Yes," the Admiral replied, looking at Laura intently. "I believe at the time of the attacks, he was already working as your personal aide. Or at least that's what I assumed. He traveled with you to Galactica for the decommissioning ceremony and, well, afterwards he certainly was your aide."

Laura wanted to ask what had happened to him - how he had ended up on the wall - but she could not bring herself to voice the question, focusing instead on simply staring at the first familiar face she had seen since waking up two weeks ago.

The Admiral allowed her this moment, taking a step back as he, too, let his eyes rest on the wall.

"He was a brave kid," he said at last. "Gave his life to save others, including my son."

Laura turned to look at him then, surprised.

"You didn't mention you had a son," she said. Another thing she supposed she should have known about him. "Is he...is he still alive?" she asked hesitantly, afraid it might be a touchy subject.

"I had two sons," Bill replied, his voice grave but steady. "Zak died before the attacks, but Lee is still alive."

_Zak...Lee..._ Laura repeated the names in her mind, but could not draw on any recollection related to either one. She hadn't really expected to, but it still continued to be frustrating. 

"I'm sorry about Zak," she said at last, touching the Admiral's arm slightly before putting more distance between them again.

Perhaps she was being too cautious, but she didn't want him read too much into any contact initiated by her. She didn't know him. Wasn't ready to face how well she was supposed to know him.

"And I'm sorry about Billy," he replied, allowing her to retreat.

Laura only nodded her head, silently accepting the condolences even though her memories of Billy were fleeting at best. Perhaps he had been close to her, though, if he had become her personal aide.

"I think I'm ready to return to the sickbay now," she said at last, suddenly feeling both mentally and physically exhausted. She had walked much farther today than she had before, and while her physique had improved a lot already, she was still far from being at her full strength.

"About that..." the Admiral began as they turned and started walking in the direction they had come from. "If you would like, we could arrange private quarters for you for the remainder of your recovery."

Laura glanced up at Bill.

"Could you?" she asked, perked by the possibility of being removed from the clinical austerity of the sickbay.

"Absolutely," the Admiral smiled, clearly pleased by her rare, unguarded enthusiasm. "According to Cottle you are well enough now to no longer require constant medical attention. None of us will stay much longer on Galactica, but for as long as we're still here, you don't have to stay at the sickbay unless you want to. There's plenty of room aboard now and you might feel more comfortable in private quarters."

"Thank you," Laura replied, flashing a genuine smile at Bill. "I think I would like that very much, Admiral....Bill."


	5. Settling in

Bill knocked on the door of the hatch that lead to Laura's quarters. After some consideration, she had agreed to settle in the same quarters that had been hers before she had moved permanently to live in Bill's. Some of her personal items had always remained there, and Bill had carried the rest back for her as she moved in once more.

If he had hoped that some of her personal belongings might trigger new memories, it had been a vain hope, even though there had been a few items she had recognized from a time long before the attacks. The silver bracelet, for one, had been the first to go back on her wrist. 

When the hatch door opened, Bill was greeted by a sight of Laura clad in grey sweats, a blue scarf wrapped around her head, and a flush on her cheeks that suggested she had been in the middle of her daily exercises. In that moment she looked exactly like she had on the day he had caught her running around Galactica, burning out her last bits of energy and health when she should have been taking her doloxan treatments. The connection was jarring and, for a moment, Bill forgot to greet Laura as he had intended, staring at her instead as if he had lost his ability to speak.

"Adm...Bill, is something wrong?" 

Bill snapped out of his reverie, focusing again on the Laura in front of him now. On a closer look, the difference between this Laura and the one he had been thinking of was clear enough. Her complexion looked far healthier now than it had then, even as she had been experiencing a surge of energy at the time, and in place of the frantic gleam in her eyes there was a careful, guarded expression that reminded Bill more of the very first months of their acquaintance. Even her cheeks looked less hollow now that she had a healthy appetite and they all enjoyed a steady supply of fresh food being sent up from the fertile planet.

"No, no," Bill said at last, forcing his thoughts back to the present situation. "Everything is fine. I was just struck by..." He was not really sure what to say, afraid he had already said too much. He was painfully aware that whenever he alluded to anything he and Laura had shared in the past, it seemed to push her further away instead of bringing her closer. "Nevermind," he said at last, smiling apologetically.

Laura eyed him a little suspiciously but then stepped aside, gesturing for Bill to come in.

"I was just finishing with the lifts," she said, pointing towards the corner of the room where a selection of small weights lay scattered on the floor.

"I hope I'm not intruding," Bill replied. "I can just as well come back another time if you'd rather..."

"No, it's fine. I could use a break anyway," Laura replied - whether out of politeness or because she truly didn't mind his presence, Bill could not tell. Most of the time he thought she rather tolerated than truly welcomed his company.

As Bill entered Laura's quarters, he could see she had been making an inventory of sorts, most of her meager belongings sprinkled around the room - clothes spread out on her rack and backs of chairs, a number of books and notebooks on the desk, and a selection of other small objects ranging from a hairbrush and a nearly empty bottle of perfume to threadbare socks and some half-burned candles, all of them arranged neatly over a blanket on the floor.

"My entire life, apparently," Laura said dryly, gesturing at the items. "I'm sorry about the mess, but I haven't decided yet what to do with all these."

Bill took in the sight in front of him, many of the seemingly meaningless items triggering memories of past moments shared with Laura, and he understood what she meant. He could imagine she was probably trying to decide whether the items that she had no apparent need for were worth preserving - if they held a personal value to her that she could not remember.

Eventually his eyes landed on the charred copy of _Searider Falcon_ on top of the pile of books.

"I assume there's a story behind that one," Laura said, her eyes having followed his gaze. "Most of it seems to be readable still but some pages are quite badly burned."

"There is a story behind it," Bill replied, turning to face Laura, but she averted her eyes almost immediately. "I'll tell you when you want to hear it," he added ruefully, hoping the book would stay in her collection, but determined to save it for his own if she decided to bin it.

"Thank you," she replied, making no indication that she was ready to hear the story now. Moving closer to the desk, she then took the pile of well-worn notebooks into her hands, flipping through the pages with a critical eye.

"These looks like school supplies," she observed, changing the subject. "Most of them have children's handwriting on them, but I can see the corrections are mine." She sighed, putting the notebooks down again. "I never thought I'd work as a teacher again," she added, sounding a little wistful.

"You did, for a while, on New Caprica," Bill replied. They had talked briefly about New Caprica one evening. Not on a personal level - Bill hadn't even attempted it, knowing it would not go down well - but enough for Laura to have some basic information of what had taken place there.

"New Caprica..." Laura mused, a deprecating smile playing on her lips. "What a name."

"It was a stinking rock," Bill replied, but his expression soon softened as he recalled the times he had spent there with Laura before the cylons came. He said nothing and kept his eyes fixed on the notebooks rather than Laura, but he could tell she was observing him now.

In fact, it seemed to have become something of a habit of hers. She was keen to avoid his eyes whenever he looked at her, but when he wasn't looking, Bill could often feel her eyes on him, weighing, observing, perhaps trying to catch some elusive memory that clearly never came. Usually she remained silent, but this time Bill was surprised to hear her continue the conversation.

"Was it truly that awful?" she inquired carefully, seemingly on the fence about whether she really wanted to discuss this or not.

Bill sighed, wishing he could somehow make it all easier for her. He knew she was going through a constant battle within herself between wanting to know everything that had happened and being afraid that the details of it would crush her like the brief summary in her own letter had nearly done already. It was also quite clear, Bill thought bitterly, that she wanted to know nothing of the relationship the two of them had shared.

Choosing his words carefully, Bill began: "The planet itself was barely habitable and, from what I know, the period of cylon occupation was a nightmare for everyone on the planet, but..." he paused, glancing at Laura to gauge her reaction, "There were good times, too, during the year before the cylons came." He paused again to give her an opportunity to change the subject if she wanted to, but when she remained silent, Bill went on: "Couples were formed and children were born, and in the beginning there was a sense of hope in the air. People made plans for the future."

"Even though the planet was barely habitable?" Laura asked, sounding a little doubtful.

"We had been on the run for over a year at that point," Bill replied. "It didn't take much to lift people's spirits at the time. Besides, when we arrived, that part of the planet seemed to be entering a brief summer cycle. It got worse only a couple of months later."

Bill wondered if he should tell Laura about the cabin she had wanted to build, but something held his tongue. Perhaps some small part of him hoped that she still might one day remember it for herself.

While Bill had been talking, Laura had sat down behind the desk, still eyeing the notebooks as she listened. Before he could continue, she spoke up again, though Bill felt her words weren't addressed to anyone in particular:

"You know, I always loved teaching," she said, a faraway look in her eyes. "Maybe I should never have stopped."

Bill sensed she had probably heard enough of New Caprica for the day, but with a sudden epiphany he decided he might try a new tactic. Instead of talking to her about everything she could not remember - something that clearly frustrated her - perhaps he could get her to talk about what she could remember. By some sort of mutual understanding they had never talked much about their lives before the attacks, but perhaps it was time to change that now. Perhaps instead of trying to start from the middle, he should start from the beginning.

"If you loved teaching so much, what made you get into politics?" he asked, hoping to sound casual rather than inquisitive.

Laura looked up from the notebooks, finally fixing her eyes on Bill again. 

"Have I never told you or are you just making conversation?" she asked, eyeing him a little suspiciously.

"You never told me," he replied, smiling a little to himself as it dawned on him he had been going through all of this the wrong way. He had been trying to reach the Laura he had shared everything with, but forgotten he needed to deal with the Laura he had met all those years ago at the decommissioning ceremony. "We never talked much about our pasts. I guess it just never seemed..."

"...relevant?" Laura suggested.

Bill smiled. "Yeah, I suppose. There was always some present crisis to deal with." He paused, looking hopefully at Laura. "Maybe that is something we could fix now, if you would like. Meet on common ground."

For a moment Laura remained silent and Bill was afraid she would tell him no, but then she finally nodded her head slightly.

"I think we could try that," she said, rewarding Bill with a slight smile. Removing a suit from the back of a chair to make room for him, she then told him to take a seat.

When Bill had settled comfortably enough, Laura leaned back in her own chair, taking a moment to stare wordlessly at the ceiling. When she looked at Bill again, there was a look of melancholy on her face.

"It wasn't a particularly good time in my life, you know," she said at last. "Maybe that's why I never talked about it."

Bill nodded silently, allowing Laura to continue at her own pace.

"Did I ever tell you about my family?" she asked. "I mean my parents and sisters."

"Not much," Bill replied honestly. "Only that they had all died before the attacks. I know your mother died of cancer but the others..." Bill sighed, shaking his head as he thought of the grief she must have gone through. "You never elaborated and I never asked. I figured you'd tell me when the time was right."

Laura let out a mirthless laugh at his last words and Bill could see why. These weren't really the circumstances he'd envisioned when picturing a future where they might finally share all the secrets of their pasts.

"Well, here we are then," Laura said after a short pause. Then, taking in a deep breath, as if preparing for a plunge, she continued: "My father and sisters, and my unborn niece, all died in a car accident one night, many years ago. They were hit my a drunk driver and all died on the scene."

Bill gaped at Laura, his heart aching for her. He remembered all too well the devastation he had felt when he had lost Zak. He could not fathom how Laura had survived losing her entire family like that, and he certainly didn't wonder why she had never spoken of it before. It was still hard enough for him to talk about Zak.

"Gods, Laura," he managed at last. "I never...I'm so sorry." Bill could see that Laura's eyes glimmered with tears, but she did not let them fall.

"You can imagine I took a leave of absence from my work as a teacher at the time," Laura replied, her voice a little shaky. Bill wished he could have held her in his arms then, or even just reached out to give her hand a gentle squeeze, but he held himself back, unsure of whether his efforts to comfort her would be welcomed. The fact that she was even opening up to him at all was progress, and he did not want to set it back.

 _"You're a coward, Bill,"_ he told himself, but still would not budge.

"I can imagine," he finally said out loud, his voice filled with compassion.

Laura's eyes were fixed on the wall and she hardly seemed to hear Bill, her mind probably cast back to those months of grief that she hadn't allowed herself to relive before.

"The months that followed are a bit of a blur..." She seemed to snap back then for a moment, glancing quickly at Bill. "I mean, not because of this...amnesia I have, but because they always were, looking back. I didn't go out much. Didn't do much. At first just getting through each day was challenge enough."

Bill nodded. "I understand," he said, allowing Laura to continue.

"Well, eventually a friend of mine started pestering me about going back to work and starting to see people again. I still didn't feel like I was in the right frame of mind to be working with children, but then she got it into her head I should join Richard Adar's campaign as his education adviser and liaison. Before my leave of absence, I had become a pretty active speaker in favor of education reforms. Apparently public education was to be one of the key points of Adar's campaign, and somebody had recommended me to him."

"And you said yes." It wasn't really a question as Bill knew the outcome.

"Eventually," Laura replied, her voice still distant. Then suddenly her mouth twitched into a wry smile and a familiar twinkle appeared in her eye. Bill delighted in seeing the expression that was so inexplicably Laura, until it occurred to him she might have been thinking about Richard Adar.

In what way exactly had that man persuaded Laura to join his campaign?

"I suppose Richard Adar could be a persuasive man," he said darkly, hating himself for the feeling of jealousy that had risen up within him. It had been easy enough to push the ugly emotion aside while he'd still had Laura in his arms, covering him with kisses while assuring him she never loved the man. Now, when he himself was a stranger to Laura, it all felt rather different.

Laura looked at her then with a curious expression, clearly sensing the change in his demeanor.

"He could be persuasive, yes," she said at last, choosing not to ask. "But it wasn't he who persuaded me to join his campaign. When I eventually met him I had already decided I was going to do it."

Bill's frown cleared a little and he felt himself a bit foolish for reacting in such a way. He could only attribute it to having been very much on the edge since Laura's operation. The fact that he had been denying himself the comforts of ambrosia did not help. More than once he had been sorely tempted, but the thought of Laura had always held him back. She was wary enough of him as it was. If he was constantly drunk or just reeking of a night of heavy drinking, she'd probably refuse to see him at all.

"What convinced you then?" he asked a little sheepishly.

"I guess I eventually just convinced myself I needed to take a new direction," Laura replied. "There were a few signs along the way," the wry smile returned to her lips "but the night I nearly slept with my former student was definitely the final straw. That's when I called Adar's office and told them I was in."

Bill was not sure what he had been expecting, but this admission certainly took him by surprise. Clearly, there was a great deal he hadn't known about Laura. Not that it surprised him in the least that a former student of hers would want to sleep with her. There were probably many of those to go around - or at least had been before they all died.

From the way Laura was looking at him now, Bill wondered if she had told him this just to see his reaction.

In a way it reminded him of the very first weeks and months of their acquaintance, when almost every exchange between them had been marked by silent probing and testing of waters on both sides, looking for reactions and interpreting hidden meanings behind words.

Surprisingly, Bill found the thought comforting. It was familiar territory. It had been a while since he had dealt with that side of Laura, but at least it was a step forward from complete avoidance.

"Poor lad," Bill said at last, meeting Laura's eyes with a sly smile. He could play this game. "He had probably been fantasizing about Ms Roslin since...well, whatever grade you taught him in."

He was rewarded with a small smile - one that Bill had thought he might never see again.

"Anyway," Laura continued, moving on with her story without further comment. "I joined Mayor Adar's campaign, and one thing led to another. When he was was elected President, I stayed on board as his chief educational advisor. By his second administration, I had become the Secretary of Education." She paused, her eyes looking absently at a spot on the wall. "I never really cared about politics, to tell you the truth, but Richard could be very persuasive, and I never really could say no to him."

"You were in love with him?" Bill could not stop himself, the wistful look in Laura's eyes making it impossible for him to remain silent. She had told him, before the operation, that there had been an infatuation, but perhaps her choice of words was only brought on by the wisdom of hindsight.

Laura's eyes turned to Bill and she was back in the present moment, studying his face.

"So I told you I had an affair with Richard," she said, clearly fascinated by this information. There was a thoughtful hum and then: "I really thought I'd take that one to my grave."

"You nearly did," Bill said gravely, thinking back to those last moments he had been able to share with the Laura who knew and loved him. It was a miracle she still lived, and Bill knew it was worth every sacrifice, even if she'd never love him again.

"The answer is no," her voice brought Bill back from his morose thoughts, answering the question he had though she was trying to avoid.

"He came into my life at a time when I was vulnerable, and he could be very charming when he wanted to," she continued, surprising Bill with her unusual candor. "Things happened and then...they just continued to happen. But I never had any illusions about it being anything more than it was. I knew he would never leave his wife and I never wanted him to, which was probably why it worked so well for both of us."

"Bill..." she continued while Bill still digested her words. "I know you and I...we had something, and I believe it was something much more precious than what I had with Richard but..."

"I understand," Bill cut in. Her words had moved him, but he was also afraid to let her finish, to hear what might have come after the "but".

"Do you?" Laura asked, raising an eyebrow.

Bill smiled sheepishly, wondering if she had seen right through him. Then his face grew grave again. This was the first time Laura was allowing any kind of conversation regarding their relationship, and he knew he had to get it right or there might not be another chance.

"Laura," he began, searching her eyes, grateful that for once she was not shying away from his look. Even if her memories were not returning, she seemed to be at least regaining her usual fortitude. "I understand that this isn't easy for you. I know I can't even begin to fully fathom what you're going through, but I would like to help in whatever way I can, and I'm not asking for anything more than to be your friend."

"Bill..."

"I love you, Laura," he continued, unable to stop once he had started, his heart doing the speaking for him. "I'm not going to deny that, because I can't, but I want you to know that I don't expect anything from you in return. Think of it as a gift, if you will. You don't have to return it."

"Gift?" There was a sudden change in Laura's expression, and then she shook her head. "Oh, nevermind."

"What?" Bill looked at her quizzically. Her reaction was not exactly what he had been expecting, either for good or bad.

"I just had a strange sense of...déjà vu, I guess," she drawled, as if reluctant to say what was on her mind.

"You remember something?" Bill asked, feeling a surge of hope.

Laura shook her head. "No, not really," she said. "Just you saying it's a gift gave me a weird feeling like I'd heard it before, but I can't connect it to anything. It's probably nothing."

Bill could feel his hopes rising. "I gave you a book once. Well, I've given you more than one, but the first time..." he got up, walking over to the pile of books on Laura's desk. He pulled out the copy of _Dark Day_. "This is the first book I ever gave you. I told you it was a gift because I never lend books."

"Oh," Laura said, eyeing the book curiously. She closed her eyes and then, after a while, shook her head. "No, I can't remember that," she said, her voice tinged with regret.

"It's okay," Bill assured her. Despite the setback, he could not allow himself to feel disappointed. He was convinced that she had unconsciously come close to accessing the memory, and it gave him hope that over time she might stumble upon more lost moments, and maybe eventually be able to grasp them fully.

But Laura was looking at him now with a sad smile, making Bill wonder if he had said something wrong.

"You're too good for me, Bill," she said at last, answering his unspoken question. "I know you say you love me, and I don't doubt you, but I think the person you really love is the Laura I can't remember."

"No," Bill said simply, shaking his head. To him there was only one Laura, memories or no memories, but perhaps he hadn't fully realized how disconnected she truly felt with her former self.

"What if I never get those memories back?" she continued, her voice catching a little. "I can't compete with the Laura you shared so much with, and I don't want to."

"It's never been a competition," Bill said, his own voice breaking too. "It doesn't matter to me if you never remember what we've already shared together. We can make new memories, as friends, if that's what you'd prefer."

"I saw your face light up when you thought I might be remembering something," Laura replied with a sigh. "Don't tell me it doesn't matter to you, because I know it does."

At this Bill smiled ruefully. "It matters because I'm afraid of losing you," he replied, wanting to make her understand. "It doesn't affect the way I feel about you, whether you remember or not, but I'm afraid when we move down on the planet, you will walk away from me and never want to see me again, if you have no memories to tie you to me. And I'm not sure I could bear it."

He knew his expression must have looked pained when he looked at Laura, because her face softened when she met his eyes.

"I'm sorry, I'm not used to this," she said at last, her voice sounding a little thicker than usual.

Laura cleared her throat, blinking rapidly a few times, and then she suddenly smiled again in that mischievous way of hers that always made Bill's world a little brighter. "You really should worry so much," she said, aiming for a lighter tone. "As it is, I only know three people in the whole world, so I'm in no hurry to cut anyone out of my life right now."

 _'Right now'_ , Bill thought, was not exactly the same as forever, but it would have to do - for now.


	6. The journals

Two days after pouring his heart out to Laura, Bill found himself once again sitting alone in his cabin. He had seen Laura only once since their talk, but doctor Cottle had just spent a good hour in his quarters, giving him a briefing on their former president's health.

Physically, she was making progress in leaps and bounds. Her walks around Galactica were becoming longer each day and Bill knew from Cottle that she was determined to take up running soon.

It was only a matter of time before Cottle would deem her fit enough to settle on Earth, but it was not something Bill was ready to think about just yet. Jack had assured him he'd prefer to keep Laura on Galactica for at least another few weeks, if she agreed, so that they could be absolutely sure there would be no complications. In a week or two, she would make her first trip down so that Cottle could then observe her reactions to the atmosphere before naming the final date of their permanent removal to the planet.

It had all sounded very sensible as Jack had explained it, but it did not touch upon the other aspect of Laura's recovery. Despite her constantly improving physical health, she had shown no signs of gaining any parts of her lost memory back, apart from the brief moment of déjà vu she had experienced just a couple of days earlier. Jack had been able to trace the cut off point for her memory to what was likely a couple of years before the attacks, but had made no progress in helping her remember anything beyond that point. There was a hazy period of a couple of months around that time, preceded by perfectly clear memories of everything that happened before, and followed by no memories at all of what had happened after.

"I have considered administering her a small dose of chamalla," Jack had confided in Bill. "I never saw the point of using it to treat cancer, but it's a strong hallucinogenic and there is a chance it might open up parts of her mind that she has lost access to."

"No," Bill had said, shaking his head. "There has to be another way. That stuff has caused her at least as much suffering as the cancer itself."

The truth was he had always been afraid of the hallucinations and the power they seemed to hold over Laura. If there was even the smallest risk that taking chamalla might lead her on some new suicide quest, he would rather take his chances with the possibility that Laura might never recover her memories.

He would just have to be patient, no matter how much her constant, silent rejections gnawed at his heart. At least she had become a little more open and welcoming of his company after their talk in her quarters two days earlier, and that was something positive to hold on to - something he could work with.

A soft knock on the hatch door interrupted Bill's thoughts.

"You forgot something, Jack?" he boomed, getting up from the couch and making his way towards the hatch.

There was a slight pause and then an unexpected voice: "No, it's Laura. Can I come in?"

Bill's heart jumped in his chest and he leaped to open the hatch. She had never before, since her loss of memory, been the one to seek his company or initiate a meeting.

"Laura," he greeted her, unable to hide his smile.

"Hello, Bill." Her smile in return didn't quite match his, but it was nothing less than Bill had learned to expect. He thought it still looked less strained than it would have been just a few days before. Besides, just the fact that she was now regularly calling him just Bill instead of Admiral Adama, or just Admiral, was promising enough.

She looked beautiful, and not least of all because she was actually starting to look healthy. She was wearing a pair of jeans he hadn't seen on her since Kobol, the light green blouse he had always liked, and a darker green scarf that matched well with the blouse. Bill had not seen her without a scarf yet, but Jack had told him even her hair was already starting to grow back, short as it still was.

"You look..." Bill began, but realized he was probably once again making Laura uncomfortable with his overzealous admiration. "I mean, please come in," he made a quick save, swallowing the compliment and schooling his expression back to what he hoped was a neutral look.

Laura offered him another guarded smile as she entered his quarters. This time Bill did not allow himself to entertain any hope that the familiar quarters - much more her home than the quarters that ostensibly had belonged to her for the past several months - would trigger any memories, but still he watched with interest as Laura took in her surroundings, taking time to inspect more closely some of the more foreign looking artifacts on his walls and shelves.

"I'm sorry," she said at last, walking over to the couch. "I hope I'm not being nosy."

Bill smiled. "Not at all," he said. He wanted to tell her this cabin was as much her home as it was his, and that there was no part of it that she hadn't already seen or wasn't welcome to see again, but he held his tongue. "Would you sit down?" He offered instead, gesturing towards the couch. "Can I get you anything?"

"Actually, yes," Laura said a little hesitantly as she sat down. "I...I believe you have my journals?"

Bill, who had been making his way to the couch to join Laura, paused and looked at her in surprise. He'd had the journals ready from the day Laura had undertaken the operation, but over the following weeks had almost given up hope that she would ever want to read them. He knew she had mentioned them in the letter she had written for herself, as a source of information that she might find useful in her recovery, but since reading the letter, Laura had never as much as mentioned the journals. He knew she had had a difficult time accepting the over five-year gap in her memory and had been almost resentful towards that period of time, as if it didn't belong to her, or she didn't belong to it. Bill could understand the sentiment, but it had still been often difficult for him to remain silent when all he wanted was to share everything with her.

And now, at last, it seemed she was willing to at least start trying to face the things she could not remember.

"Yes, I have them," Bill hastened to say when he realized Laura was now looking at him expectantly. He walked over to his cabinet and pulled out the top drawer, carefully extricating a haphazard pile of notebooks, some barely bound together papers, and one proper, leather-bound book that could actually pass for a real diary.

"Paper was often scarce, so you used what was available," he explained, carrying the pile over to where Laura was sitting. "They should all be in order, though, chronologically."

"Thank you," she replied, watching intently as Bill laid down the papers on the table in front of the couch.

He wasn't quite sure whether he should offer to leave, remembering she had some weeks ago wanted to read her letter alone, but the idea seemed a little silly, considering these quarters were his, and if Laura wanted privacy, she could easily take the journals and return to her own cabin.

Bill decided to wait for Laura's cue, busying himself with menial tasks around the cabin while she silently leafed through the papers.

"You've read these, right?" Her voice broke the silence after a while. Bill took the opening as an opportunity to approach her, walking over to the couch and sitting down at the far end of it, making sure he was giving her enough space.

"I have, yes," he replied at last. "You gave them to me before the operation and told me I should read them and then keep safe until you wanted them back."

Laura acknowledged his explanation with a slight nod of her head, turning her attention back to the journals.

After a moment, she spoke up again: "Anything I should know before I start reading these?" Without waiting for Bill's answer, she continued: "Will I be able to live with myself after I'm done reading?"

"Laura...." Bill started. He understood where she was coming from and wished he could assure her, but he knew she had struggled with many decisions even at the time she had made them, and back then she had at least had the full knowledge and understanding of what was at stake if she failed to do what had to be done. Looking at them with the eyes of an outsider, with no memory of what things had been like, might make some of those decisions even more difficult to accept.

"I guess that says it all, really," she sighed, noting Bill's hesitation.

"No, Laura," he said sternly, pulling his thoughts together. "I'm not going to pretend that some of those passages won't be difficult for you to read, and if you want me to, I'll stay with you while you read, or I'll even read them to you, if you'd prefer, but one thing you must understand is that every single human alive today is alive because of you - because of the hard decisions and personal sacrifices you've made to ensure our survival as a species. Yes, you will question some of the choices both you and I have made, but sometimes all we had were bad choices and we had to try to choose the one that would be the lesser of two evils. Sometimes we were wrong, sometimes right."

"We..." Laura mused.

"For the most part, the military decisions were mine, and the ones concerning civilians were yours, but once we started working together, we often arrived at those decisions together, regardless of who called the final shot."

Laura nodded her head again, silently opening the leather-bound book that was the first part of her journals - a proper journal she had long ago brought with her from Caprica. The first pages, Bill knew, were from before the attacks, mainly consisting of brief notes and summaries of meetings and other work related events, probably used to keep her on top of her busy schedule.

"Teacher's strike," Laura muttered as she scanned the first pages. Then she flipped a page and guffawed at something she read there. "That bastard," she huffed and Bill could guess what part she was referring to. Apparently, right before the attacks, the moron Richard Adar had asked her to step down for nothing worse than doing her frakking job.

"Adar, huh?" he said out loud.

"I can't believe he would do that," Laura continued indignantly. "Apparently I solved a potential crisis and he was unhappy because he had _wanted_ it to escalate?" 

"Seems that way," Bill replied. "I always did think him a moron."

Laura hummed a non-committal response as she poured over the text again.

"He wasn't always like that," she said then, without looking up. "He had ideas and principles when he first ran."

"Power can have that effect on people," Bill replied. "Too often, the object becomes to gain more power instead of using it for the best of the people."

He could see Laura stiffen, her eyes focused ahead rather than scanning the text in front of her.

"Did I become like that?" she asked after a short reflection.

"No", Bill replied without a moment's doubt. "Your object was always nothing less than the survival of human race, and....besides, you were never a moron," he added with a tentative smile. "Obstinate and stubborn, yes, but not a moron."

Laura chuckled, turning to look at him archly. Bill could not have been more delighted by her reaction.

"Is that so?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. He had missed that teasing look on her face.

"Very much so, Madame President," he replied, the old title slipping out in a moment of reminiscence. Despite its apparent formality, to Bill the title was all fond familiarity now.

"Madame President..." Laura repeated, her expression changing again. She looked thoughtful, introspective. "Who'd have ever thought?"

Bill, too, grew serious again. "You rose to the occasion unlike anyone I could imagine," he assured her.

Laura smiled wanly. "Are you just saying that or is that what you thought at the time?"

Bill's smile in return was much warmer as he remembered his early encounters with Laura.

"I thought you were a simple schoolteacher, probably good at your own job, but hopelessly incompetent to be a president," he replied honestly. "But you proved yourself," he added, his features softening in tender recollection, "even to an old, inflexible military commander like me. You took on a task that most people would have balked at, not because you coveted the position, but because you saw it as your duty. And you soared."

Laura looked at Bill, a bashful smile slowly growing on her face as he spoke. When he finished, she remained silent for a moment, before whispering a soft "thank you".

"Don't thank me yet, " Bill replied, smiling again. "You will find, on those early pages, that I was quite obnoxious to you at the start."

"I find that kind of hard to imagine," Laura replied.

Bill, trying to look at himself through her eyes, could see what she meant. Since she'd woken up with no memory, he had been following her around like a puppy, catering to all her needs, and giving her lovesick looks when he thought she wasn't looking but probably still noticed. It was no wonder if she thought he was nothing more than a soft old man without any edge. Perhaps it would be good for her to learn about their earlier friction.

"You'll be in for a surprise, then," he replied with a sly grin.

Laura raised an eyebrow and then, after giving it a moment's thought, shoved the first part of her journals in Bill's lap.

"Very well," she said with a hint of challenge in her eyes. "Perhaps you'd like to read to me about your indiscretions yourself?"

Bill took the book readily from Laura's hands.

"I'd be happy to," he replied, finding the page where she had left off. 


	7. Running

It felt good to run. Laura could feel her sweater sticking to her back as the cleansing drops of sweat poured out of her skin. She was out of breath and beginning to feel more than a little queasy from the level of exercise her body wasn't yet accustomed to, but despite the discomfort, it still felt good to run. Even though she hadn't made it very far around the battlestar before she'd had to turn back,  Laura could be well satisfied with her first attempt. The physical exercise was exactly what she needed to balance the evenings she now spent in Bill's quarters, going through her old journals.

At first she had thought she'd study them herself, in private, but when it came down to it, she'd had to accept it might be easier to face the past together with someone who had actually been there. The diary texts were often short and to the point, necessitated by the shortness of supplies, and while Bill read them to her out loud, he was able to add many details and explain the background of what had happened in ways that Laura would have had no access to by herself.

Besides, though she had been loath to admit it to herself at first, there was something calming about Bill's presence. His voice as he read the passages was soothing, and as he added his own experiences to the narrative, making it richer and more detailed, Laura could almost picture the scenes before her as they unfolded - for better and for worse.

It was also part of why they never advanced much in the course of one evening. Laura had soon found that she preferred to take in all the new information in small bites, and so they would read only a few pages at a time, and then spend the rest of the evening discussing what they had just read. For Laura, it was almost like being back to school, except this time she was the student and Bill the ever patient teacher.

As she slowed down to a slight jog, Laura shook her head at it all. It felt almost like glimpsing at a life that wasn't her own.

"I can't believe you'd put me in a frakking brig," she had huffed one evening as they'd been discussing the events surrounding the discovery of Kobol, but in truth, she could hardly blame Bill. What the frak had  _she_  been thinking, throwing all caution and sense to the wind on some drug-fueled, religious whim?

According to the journals, and confirmed by Bill, it seemed she had actually been right and they had found the tomb of Apollo and a sort of guideline towards Earth, but the thought of how they had got there was still making Laura feel uncomfortable. It seemed the entire fleet had come close to falling apart that time, and she could not help feeling that the fault had been hers. 

"When we made up on Kobol, we agreed to move forward without assigning blame on either side," Bill had told her. "There was no point then in arguing about who was more to blame, and there's no point now. We both could have handled the situation better, and probably would have if we had trusted each other then like we came to do later."

Perhaps he was right and this was just another thing Laura needed to accept and let go. Gods knew that if she didn't, she would lose her mind trying to reconcile it with everything that she was learning of the years that were missing from her memory.

 

Without paying much attention to where her feet were taking her, Laura emerged from her thoughts as she realized she was quite unintentionally approaching Bill's cabin. One more corner and a few more steps, and she found herself standing behind the hatch with the fading word "Commander" painted on it.

Frowning, Laura shook her head. She had intended to return to her own quarters without making any stop at Bill's, whose cabin should not even have been on her route, but somehow her subconscious seemed to have directed her there while she herself had been lost in thought. It was an odd notion, but one that Laura couldn't entirely dismiss.

She could imagine, though she could not recall, the many times she must have walked through these same corridors over the past few years to arrive precisely here. Perhaps that route still remained etched somewhere in her passive memory even though she herself had no direct access to it. Laura was not sure if the thought was comforting or not. 

Hesitantly, she lifted her hand to knock on the hatch, figuring she might as well, now that she was here.

It did not take long for the wheel on the hatch to turn with a creaking sound that Laura had already learned to expect. Clearly no oil had been available for something as inconsequential as the admiral's door for some time.

Bill's face, when it appeared, seemed to light up at the first sight of her, but then almost immediately clouded over with worry when he took in her appearance.

"Laura!" he exclaimed, all color instantly draining from his face. "Are you all right?"

She remembered too late that she was still covered in sweat, probably quite red in the face, and definitely short of breath. Clearly, she had not thought this through.

"I'm fine," she assured Bill, even as she found herself being ushered in great haste and all but carried to the couch, Bill's hands feeling her forehead and checking her pulse before she was even seated, as if he thought she was seconds from expiring.

"I'm  _fine_ ," Laura repeated with more force, fixing Bill with a glare that finally made him pause and take a step back.

"I'm sorry, I thought..." he began, but didn't finish the sentence, sinking down on the couch instead, burying his face in his hands.

_"That I was dying?"_ Laura wanted to ask, but she held her tongue. She knew she  _had_  been dying only a few weeks ago, and could feel that nagging sense of guilt again that still often plagued her whenever she thought of everything she was putting Bill through, sometimes inadvertently, sometimes fully aware that she was hurting him.

"I was running," she said at last, allowing her muscles to relax as she leaned back on the couch, suddenly very aware of how far she had actually pushed her body that morning. Was this how being close to death had felt like?

Laura chose not to even try to explain how she had found herself by Bill's hatch, loath as she was to give him any false ideas about any part of her memory possibly returning when it wasn't. She hated that look of hope that would always flicker in his eyes whenever he thought he could sense even the smallest indication of something coming back to her.

Nothing ever did, and on top of her own disappointment, it didn't help to know she was disappointing him too.

Bill never said so, of course, but his eyes - so full of poorly repressed emotion - were incapable of lying.

Even now, Laura could see the struggle in him. The part that wanted to give her the space he knew she needed battling against the part that wanted to hold her close - to personally ascertain that she truly was well. 

"Is there anything I can get you?" he asked at last, when the silence stretched on. A weak compromise between the two opposing desires.

Taking pity of him, Laura offered him a slight smile. "I could use a glass of water, actually," she replied. It wasn't even a lie. She actually  _was_  thirsty.

The glass, filled to the brim with water, was in her hands almost as soon as she had finished the sentence. For an old man, Bill could certainly move with surprising alacrity when he had the right motivation.

"Thank you," Laura murmured before raising the tumbler to her lips, hiding her smile.

"I really am sorry I startled you," she began a short while later, setting the glass back down after swigging down most of its contents. "It definitely wasn't my intention to give you a scare." She still wasn't entirely sure why she had knocked on his hatch in the first place, but she was beginning to think it had been an unfortunate idea in any case.

"No, I'm sorry I reacted that way," Bill replied before Laura could think of an excuse to end her visit short. "I just saw you out of breath and I thought..." he paused, his eyes lingering on Laura with a weight that made her shift uncomfortably in her seat. "Well, I didn't think really," he added at last, looking down at his own calloused hands now. "It was a gut reaction. If I'd taken a moment to look at you more closely I'm sure I would have put the two and two together, but...." He paused, glanced at Laura again and then back at his hands. "Towards the end, when you were dying, you were always out of breath. I was always afraid that you..."

His voice trailed off and he clasped his hands tightly together almost as if he was willing to stop himself from doing something else with them.

Laura didn't know how to respond. She felt a need to apologize again, but for what, she wasn't quite sure. For almost dying on him earlier, even though she couldn't remember it now? Or just for showing up at his doorstep now, reminding him of it?  She said nothing for a while, looking down at her nearly empty glass of water instead. Was this ever going to get easier?

"I shouldn't burden you with this," Bill sighed at last, and Laura looked up in time to catch a glimpse of the all too familiar look of longing in his eyes before he averted his gaze again, clearly aware that he had been caught.

"No, it's okay," she replied meekly, but she knew her words rang hollow. They sounded that way to her own ears and she knew that to Bill, they probably sounded worse.

He was a good man who deserved to be happy, and even beyond that, Laura knew that he was devoted to her in ways that no man had ever been before, but she also knew she couldn't be to him what he wanted or needed her to be. Certainly not yet, but perhaps not ever.

Try as she might, she simply could not remember a single detail of those times they had shared together that he clearly held so dear, and despite what he told her, she did not feel that she truly was the woman he loved. Somewhere, some time, there had been a Laura he had loved and who had loved him, but she was not that Laura. She could not recognize herself in that life.

Sometimes she wondered if it would be better for Bill himself if they saw less of each other, if she wasn't a constant reminder to him of what the two of them had shared in another life.

But then there were other times she thought it might break him if she told him she even contemplated anything of the sort.

In many ways, she could tell he already was a broken man. Laura often wondered if she herself had been equally broken before her memory had been cut off.

Perhaps, at the end of it all, they had only had each other to hold on to. Perhaps the trauma of everything they had been through was part of why her mind now seemed to resist all attempts at remembering. Perhaps some things simply should be forgotten.

Laura smiled wanly at the thought and caught Bill looking at her again, this time with a hint of a rueful smile on his lips.

"You're thinking out loud," he said. It was a simple observation that seemed to contain to question.

"Am I?" Laura evaded, wondering how much he could guess of her thoughts.

"You have that look," he replied.

"And what am I thinking?" Laura asked, raising an eyebrow.

Bill shook his head. "I don't know," he sighed, but Laura was not entirely convinced that he hadn't guessed at least the general direction of her thoughts. 

They sat in silence for a moment. Laura knew that they could, and perhaps should, pick up where they'd left off with her journals, but right now she wasn't quite feeling up for yet another challenge.

There was something else, though - a curiosity, an itch...something she wanted to know but hadn't been able to bring herself to ask before. Perhaps now was as good a time as any.

"Bill," she began hesitantly. There was no easy way to ask it. The question was deeply personal, and it was possible that even Bill didn't know the answer, but he was the only one now who even might. 

"How did it happen?" she asked hoarsely, her cheeks now red from more than just the exercise. "When did I actually fall in love with you?" 

Bill, clearly startled by the blunt and unexpected question, spun his head to meet her eyes before she could look away. Laura felt she needed to explain her question further. "I mean...we clearly didn't even like each other at the start. There's no ambiguity about it in the journals. So what happened? When did it change?"

Laura wasn't really sure why she was even asking. Why the question seemed to important. Maybe she needed to know if there was something that had happened that might trigger the feeling again. Maybe she just needed to understand  _how_  it had happened. Maybe it was nothing more than pure, morbid curiosity.

She looked at Bill expectantly, holding his gaze boldly, almost in a challenge.

Finally he spoke: "I wish I could tell you, Laura," he said at last, thoughtful, almost as if lost in another time himself. "I can hardly remember a time now when I didn't love you, as clearly as I'm aware that the period existed. I think we both spent quite a while resisting those feelings, and then even longer accepting that we had failed at it." He paused, smiling wryly. "Or at least you did. I already knew, when you were dying for the first time, that what I felt was far more than an Admiral's concern for his President. I couldn't fathom going on without you. I didn't even want to. I know it was partly because I was afraid of having to shoulder all the responsibilities by myself, but it wasn't just that."

"But I didn't return those feelings at the time?" Laura asked, interested.

"I wouldn't say that you didn't," Bill replied. "You always had a better control of your emotions than I did, but whether or not our feelings towards each other at the time were equal, I never doubted that they weren't at least to some extent mutual. Whatever there's been between us at any given time, it was never indifference."

"Indifference..." Laura hummed, more to herself than to Bill. Was this indifference? 

When she forced herself to meet his eyes, she could read the same painful question in them as clearly as it rang in her own mind. 

Was there indifference now? Was that all she felt towards him?

Whatever the truth was, Laura knew in that moment that she could not tell him yes. If she took that away from him, it would break him.

"No," she finally mouthed, not quite aloud, but still clearly enough for Bill to understand her and draw his own conclusions.

In an instant, a subtle shift in his eyes revealed the hope that one inaudible word had been able to ignite in him, and Laura had to fight the urge to extinguish it.

She didn't love him. She couldn't promise him that she ever would. But she couldn't tell him she felt absolutely indifferent either. He had been too great a part of her recovery. Too much present in every aspect of her life in the past few weeks for her to repay it with nothing. 

"Bill," she sighed at last, shaking her head.  _'You have got to stop looking at me like that, so full of hope,'_  she wanted to tell him, but couldn't stand the thought of seeing his eyes cloud again at her words.

"Laura?" Now there was just question in those eyes. Concern, too.

"It's nothing," she lied, turning at last to look at anything but his face. "I should go," she added after a beat, getting up before he could protest.

"Laura," Bill's voice caught her before she reached the hatch. He hadn't moved, but his eyes had followed her across the room. "Why did you come?"

Laura paused. Why had she? She had never made a conscious decision to do so. 

"I don't know," she replied at last.

"I don't know," she repeated, pulling the hatch open as she made her retreat. "I'm sorry, Bill."

She truly was. For everything.


	8. Rock bottom

The alcohol burned Bill's throat as he knocked back a generous helping of the amber liquid that had been his sole companion for the past two nights. For Laura's sake he had remained sober for weeks, but now it no longer seemed to matter. He had not seen her since the day she had made an unexpected visit, apparently in the middle of a run, and then later made a hasty retreat. 

Bill had thought until then that they had been making progress. Even though her memories had shown no sign of returning, at least they had been spending more time together - talking more - while going through her journals. But she had come back later that day and asked if she could take the journals with her to have some reading before going to sleep. That was five days ago, and he had not seen her since then.

Today, if he'd understood Cottle's hint correctly, she had made her first visit to Earth, but since Laura herself had not asked him to join, he had made no attempt to include himself in the landing party, finding company in the liquor instead.

Had he done something wrong? Said something he shouldn't have? The alcohol provided no answers, but the relative numbness it brought was still a welcome relief, all the more so for Bill having denied it from himself for so long.

Perhaps he would be doing Laura a favor as well, drinking himself to oblivion and leaving her free to live her new life in whatever way she liked. The thought had crossed his mind before, but Bill had resolutely dismissed it, clinging on to the hope that Laura might still remember him one day. Now, as he nursed the nearly empty bottle in his lap, the cabin swaying around him through the blur of his drunken vision, he was less convinced.

Maybe he should just see Laura safely to the planet, make sure she was settled comfortably, and then fly Galactica to the sun himself.

Taking a last swig straight from the bottle, Bill staggered to his feet and took a few stumbling steps forward, only to lose his balance when his knee made contact with the corner of his couch. He was flat on his face on the floor before his heavily alcohol-infused mind could even register that he was taking a fall.

A slurred, angry "frak," was all Bill managed before passing out.

At first, he dreamed of nothing, but as time passed, the inevitable dreams of Laura came and went while he slept off his drunken stupor. She was there, and yet she wasn't. He could almost touch her, and yet he couldn't. He could almost hear her voice, and yet...

"Bill!"

There was an urgency in her voice that didn't normally belong to his dreams. Bill mumbled something in his sleep that he hoped to be soothing. 

All the response he received was a sharp sting on his cheek. A slap.

"Bill!" the voice continued, no less urgent than it had been. "Can you open your eyes?" Another slap. Bill groaned, turning slightly. It was enough to make him wince. His head was hammering and he felt nauseous.

"Frak," he slurred eventually, realizing at last where he was. He couldn't remember taking a fall, but he could remember the night of drinking that had likely landed him in the condition he now found himself in.

But the voice...

 _'Oh gods'_ , Bill cursed himself when his hazy brain finally provided him with the last missing piece of information.

Laura. The last person he had wanted to find him like this.

Before he could think of how to disappear, Bill could feel her hands on his face. No stinging slap this time, but a soft caress that made him wonder if, after all, this was still a dream.

"Bill," she spoke now, calmer, but her voice still layered with concern. If Bill kept his eyes closed, he could almost imagine that the last weeks had not happened. They were still deep in space, searching for a home. Laura was with him and she was waking him gently to a new day after a night of too much drinking.

"Laura..." he mumbled, the line between waking and dreaming lost somewhere in the blur of his inebriation. This was his Laura. No matter what was real and what was a dream, whether she could remember him or not, this was his Laura.

"Shh," she hushed, helping him gently to a sitting position. Bill thought his head might split from the move, but even so, all he could really focus on were Laura's hands around him, her voice speaking meaningless but soothing words in his ear as she all but dragged him back to the couch.

Later, he would feel guilty - he would feel terrible about her having to do all this , to see him like this - but for right now he could not. It felt too good to have her there, no matter how selfish it made him.

"I should get Dr. Cottle," her words penetrated the haze of Bill's floating thoughts.

"No," he croaked, his hand finding her arm and gripping it more tightly than he perhaps should have. He didn't need a doctor. He just needed Laura. And maybe some water.

And sleep.

 

The next time Bill woke up, he found himself lying on the couch, a blanket spread over him and a glass of water waiting on the table. His head was still throbbing, but the pain had eased considerably and his mind was beginning to clear.

His lingering memory of Laura being there earlier now seemed more like a dream than a reality. The room was all quiet now and nearly dark, illuminated only by a small table lamp left on by his desk. Bill sighed, running his hand across his face before reaching for the glass of water that he didn't remember placing there.

It had all seemed so real, but how could it have been? Laura had been avoiding him for days. Even now she was more likely packing her meager belongings to permanently settle on Earth.

Slowly, Bill pulled himself up to a sitting position. He had no idea of how long he had been out, but it must have been quite some time as his head was no longer spinning and, if not quite sober, he at least did not feel particularly drunk anymore. Not drunk enough anyway.

Groaning, he rose to his feet, padding over to the cabinet to check if he had any liquor left.

Just a few fingers worth, he told himself, to ease the hangover. Then he would sleep it off, pull himself together and go talk to Laura.

Bill had made it almost to the drinks cabinet when he was brought to a halt by an unexpected sound coming from the direction of his rack; a soft snore he had not heard in far too long. It was the last thing he had expected to hear. When Bill turned to look, just to make sure he wasn't imagining it, he found his Laura - fully clothed, her scarf slightly askew - curled up on his rack in peaceful slumber. The sight made Bill's heart ache with longing.

"Laura," he breathed before he had the presence of mind to stay quiet. Had he not been dreaming after all? Had she truly been here and never left?

At the sound of his voice, the bundle that was Laura began to stir. She muttered something unintelligible in her sleep and then slowly opened her eyes. Nothing had looked and felt so right to Bill since the last time he had had Laura in his rack.

If he could only join her there now, the picture would be perfect.

But Laura was sitting up before Bill could even finish the thought, the moment quickly broken.

"I'm sorry, I fell asleep," she sighed, still a little drowsy, suppressing a yawn. Then, more alert again. "Are you feeling better?"

For a moment, Bill could only continue to stare at her, his own mind still a bit sluggish.

"Bill?" Now there was concern in her voice again.

"Yeah," he said at last, his voice groggy. "I'm fine, just...had a bit too much to drink," he finished, casting his eyes down, the guilt finally surfacing over the wonder of finding Laura in his cabin.

When he looked up again, he found she had gotten to her feet and was walking over to Bill. She looked sorry rather than reproachful.

Funny how that was the one thing that hadn't changed.

"A bit of an understatement," she said, leading him back to the couch and sitting him down. "I found you lying on the floor. I thought..." She paused suddenly, her voice catching in her throat. "You were passed out. It took me a while to even get you to respond."

"I'm sorry, Laura," Bill replied, burying his face in his hands. He was not sure if even the joy of having Laura with him now was enough to balance the shame he felt.

There was a silence that seemed to stretch on forever. Bill had no excuses to offer, and too many regrets to name.

"I finished the journals," Laura said at last. "All of them."

Bill nodded his head in acknowledgement. So she already knew about how much he had been drinking towards the end, even without this latest escapade she'd had to witness. Perhaps that was for the better.

"Is that why you've been avoiding me?" he asked. There was still enough alcohol in him to make him blunt.

"No," she replied. A slow, thoughtful drawl. "Is that why you've been drinking?" She didn't turn to look at Bill.

"Yes," he replied simply. There was still enough alcohol in him to make him honest as well.

"I'm sorry," she said and, to Bill's surprise, reached over to give his hand a squeeze.

"S'not your fault," Bill replied, smiling ruefully as he watched her hand withdraw and return to her own lap.

"I should have talked to you, I know I should have," Laura sighed. "But I needed time," she paused. "And space, I suppose."

Bill could feel a quiet dread rising up in his gut. Was this her telling him she had decided to move on without him?

"Laura..." He didn't care if his voice now sounded pleading.

"Bill," she said calmly in that way of hers that was so excruciatingly Laura. "We've got to stop hurting each other."

No.

"Laura, what are you saying?" Bill wished he had made it to that drink cabinet. He would need something stronger than water if she told him she wanted to leave.

Laura sighed. "I don't know," she replied, shaking her head, and Bill felt a wave of relief rush through him.

"I didn't come here with answers, but we can't keep going on like this." She paused and, when she looked at Bill, he was surprised to find tears glistening in her eyes. "When I saw you on the floor I...I can't explain it, but something happened."

"What do you mean?" Bill looked at Laura curiously. This was certainly new.

"I...I don't know. When I found you, I was just suddenly almost frantic with worry. I don't know why, but it was as if I couldn't bear it if something happened to you," Laura explained haltingly. "And it's not that finding you lying on the floor wouldn't have worried me at all otherwise," she added quickly, a little guiltily, "but it was more than that. It was almost as if there was someone else screaming inside me."

Bill could feel his heart beating a little faster.

"But the thing is, I still can't _remember_ ," Laura continued, as if guessing the direction of his thoughts. "It's just that in that moment, it didn't seem to matter."

Bill nodded. He didn't want to think of it too much because he knew it would only fill him with perilous hope, but even the idea that there might be some unacknowledged part in Laura that still instinctively cared for him, even while her brain refused to process it...it was a hope almost impossible to silence completely.

"And now?" he asked carefully, fixing his eyes on Laura.

She shook her head. "I don't know," she sighed. "The moment's passed now, but I felt it so vividly back then." Then, unexpectedly, Laura reached out her hand again, this time raising it up to Bill's face. "I slapped you so hard it's still red," she murmured, running her fingers across his cheek with a tenderness that almost made Bill wonder if he was still dreaming after all.

"I'm glad," Bill replied when he found his voice. When Laura looked at him quizzically, he smiled: "Means you're getting stronger."

At that, Laura snorted, but the smile gracing her lips was unmistakable.

"I suppose I am," she hummed, letting her hand fall down again. "Thank you, Bill."

It was his turn to look at her quizzically. "What for?"

"For giving me a chance to live," she replied simply. "It's not been easy for either one of us, I'm sure, but I am quite glad to be alive and well now." She paused for a moment. "This planet...Earth," she then continued with a warm smile. "It's beautiful."

Bill had hoped that he would be with Laura when she first set foot on Earth, but it was hard to feel the same misery he had been wallowing in earlier when her eyes were shining at him with the joy and warmth that he had so dearly missed.

"It is," he agreed, mirroring Laura's smile. "But it's you who made the choice to live. I was only the messenger."

"Bill, I read the journals," Laura reminded him. "I know you were more than that. It may not be said there explicitly, but I know myself well enough to read between the lines. You must have been a big part of the reason I decided to go through with the operation."

Bill knew he had been. There was no point denying it. He nodded his head slightly.

"I just wish I could remember it all," Laura sighed. "Or even some of it."

Gods, how Bill wished it too.

"Maybe you're trying too hard," he suggested. 

"What makes you think I am?"

Bill smiled. "Because I know you."

Laura harrumphed but made no protest. "I suppose you do," she sighed.

They both remained silent for a moment, but it felt companionable this time - closer to the natural ebb and flow of the many conversations they'd had in the past.

"So what now?" Bill asked at last, having emptied the glass of water in front of him.

Laura bit her lip, uncertainty etched on her features.

"Cottle says I could settle on Earth whenever I choose to," she said. "Apart from my memory, there's no medical reason why I could not. In fact, he believes the fresh air and the planet's natural gravity would only speed up my recovery. I'd tire more easily at first, but I'd also gain strength faster."

"I'm sure Jack is right," Bill replied. He couldn't really deny it, no matter how much he would have liked to freeze time and keep Laura to himself on Galactica.

"He believes it could help my memory too," Laura offered.

"How so?" Bill asked, suddenly feeling a little more hopeful.

"I don't know," Laura admitted. "Something about a change of scenery...having other things to focus on...allowing nature to take its course. He called it a personal hunch rather than his medical opinion."

Bill could feel his shoulders sagging again. It wasn't much.

"So you're going down?" he asked.

"That's what I came here to discuss," she replied, looking at Bill intently. "Isn't it time for both of us to go?"

"Both of us?" Bill repeated. In the roller-coaster of emotions that every talk with Laura seemed to bring, he could feel his hope surging again. Did she truly mean...?

"Like I said, I don't have the answers, Bill," Laura replied, as if reading his mind. "I don't know if I ever will, but something tells me it wouldn't be right for us to part now. Not after everything that has happened, even if I can't remember it."

"You will, one day," Bill heard himself say. He had to believe it, and he wished Laura would too.

She did not reply.

"You know I'll come with you anywhere," Bill said at last. "But only if it's what you truly want."

Laura smiled at him ruefully. "I don't think I can know what I truly want until I find the missing pieces," she replied. "But until then, I don't want to lose something that I'm certain I would deeply regret losing if my memory ever returns."

Bill could feel a lump rising in his throat as she spoke, and when she finished, he took her hand and brought it to his lips before pressing it against his tear-streaked face. He had fought so long against his desire to touch and to hold her, but this he could not deny himself as he felt relief was over him in waves that threatened to turn into sobs.

"Hush," Laura soothed, scooting closer to him on the couch, allowing Bill to finally gather her in his arms.

"I love you, Laura," he whispered hoarsely in her ear, unable to keep the words to himself.

"I know you do," she replied sympathetically, patting his back. "I know."


	9. Earth

"So much life," Laura sighed contentedly as she sat next to Bill in his raptor, on what was likely going to be one of the last flights she'd ever take. They had salvaged from Galactica everything they thought they could use on the planet - what little they had, which was mainly books and keepsakes - and now all that remained was to get rid of the technology that was left. They had vacated Galactica the day before, and sent it off to join the rest of the fleet on course towards the sun. The raptor would eventually follow, but for now they still had use for it. This flight, now, Bill had suggested to explore the terrain and scout the area for a possible place to build a home. Laura had been happy to join him.

In fact, she had miss it - this easy, modern way of transport - and she had a feeling there'd be times when they'd all wish they still had the luxuries of technology to make everyday life on the new planet easier, but even with nothing more than her journal entries and Bill's assurances to rely on, she understood the decision that had been made. This beautiful, pristine planet didn't need to be marred by the destruction that technology had brought on the old world they had fled. They could make do.

And she could make do with Bill. Laura had to believe it. They had already been more comfortable around each other lately, as if the decision to move down to Earth together had clicked into place pieces that had been disjointed before. It hadn't yet brought back any memories for Laura, but no longer wallowing in uncertainty and indecision had given her a new purpose that somehow made her interactions with Bill easier. Rather than floating around in the same space, awkwardly bumping into each other almost every day, they were now moving together in the same direction.

"What are you thinking?" Laura heard Bill's voice from her right. She realized she had been staring out of the raptor window for some time now in silence.

"Life," she replied vaguely, turning to look at Bill with a smile. "Earth...Us."

"Nothing bad I hope?" he asked, but the relaxed expression on his face told Laura that he didn't really believe it was. She also noted she had never seen Bill so comfortable as he was now, piloting the raptor, and she realized she quite liked seeing him that way - in his element.

"No, nothing bad," Laura assured him out loud, turning to look out through the windscreen again. "Just marveling at how much there will be to do, and to see."

Just then, as if to prove her point, they flew over a large flock of beautiful, pink birds with long legs and equally long necks. Laura had never seen anything like it on Caprica, or any of the other colonies she had visited.

For a while, they both took in the beauty of the sight below them in silence.

"Have you thought about where you want to settle?" Bill asked at last when they flew over a more barren looking hillside. "Most of the fleet have already gone their separate ways, looking for places to settle. My son wants to go exploring on his own, but I've heard there's a small settlement that stayed quite close, near a river some 2000 clicks to the East."

"Your friend, Saul, is he there? I mean, Colonel Tigh?" Laura asked. She knew Bill would settle wherever she wanted, but she didn't want to separate him from his old friends if she could help it. It still took her some effort to wrap her mind around the fact that this friend was, in fact, a Cylon, but there was so much that she couldn't wrap her head around that her method of coping was often to simply not think about it too much. She knew he was loyal to Bill and that was enough. They had all made peace, and that had to be enough, too. She was alive because of Cylon technology, and she just had to accept and learn to live with it.

"To be honest, I don't know," Bill replied, bringing Laura back from her thoughts. "I can't imagine he would want to live in a closed village, surrounded by people, after living in a ship for so long. Not when he has Ellen by his side and a whole wide world to explore."

Laura wondered if that was how Bill felt too. That he wouldn't want to live in a settlement as long as he had her with him? If they built themselves a home away from the rest of the world, there would be no going back. Without any method of transport other than their own two feet, they would be tied together as surely as if they were married.

Laura was not sure if she was ready to make the commitment.

But she also wasn't sure if a settlement that would eventually turn into a village was where she wanted to live. If they settled there, after a while it would be hard to start over anywhere else, especially once they got rid of the raptor.

"I wanted to build a cabin," she said at last. "By a lake. I read about it."

When Laura looked over at Bill, she could see a smile on his face.

"Your cabin," he echoed.

"Water so clear it's like looking through glass," Laura mused. "That's what I'd written. Do you think we could find a place like that here?"

"I never actually got to see the place," Bill admitted, regret evident in his voice. "But I'm sure we could find something similar to match the description."

Laura let out a soft laugh. "So neither of us really know what we're looking for?" She paused and gave Bill a look. "Maybe it's better that way. We'll keep an open mind."

Bill smiled back at her. "I'd like that," he agreed.

They continued again in silence, the multitude of life beneath them taking Laura's breath away as she admired the views from the raptor. But even with the beautiful paradise spreading out all around them, there was still much to take into consideration. They would have to find a location that provided shelter from the carnivorous animals, perhaps not too far from other people in case they ever needed to find support in numbers, and it would have to be close to running water for drinking.

_"A stream running into a lake,"_ she thought, and could almost picture it when she closed her eyes...except that the image her mind conjured wasn't of the savannas beneath them, but of muddy ground and rocky mountains, patches of green here and there. Laura shook her head. It didn't add up with the scenery she was looking at.

"Not a lot of trees around here," she observed out loud. "For building that cabin."

"I had thought that as well, but it should not be a problem," Bill replied. "The way I see it, we have two options. We find a place a little further away where there are more trees, or we find a place around here and use the raptor to carry all the building material we need from elsewhere before we get rid of."

"Sounds reasonable," Laura agreed. But she wasn't ready to make the decision yet. "Maybe for now we should return to the landing site. I think Cottle will want to give me at least one more medical check up before releasing me to the wild," she added by way of explanation. 

A small contingent of people had remained in the vicinity of where the fleet had first touched down, and that's where they had made their first camp as well on their arrival. Bill had shared a tent with Cottle, and Laura with nurse Ishay who had already arrived on the planet some weeks earlier, as soon as Laura had recovered enough to no longer need constant medical attention.

It was not much of a settlement yet, but until they found a better place to stay, it could be a temporary home. 

"I heard Cottle would like to take residence in that settlement I mentioned near the river," Bill spoke as he steered the raptor back towards their encampment. "Where there are people, there'll always be need for a doctor. I said I'd fly him there when he's ready."

"Hmm," Laura hummed her agreement. "I'm sure they'll be happy to have a doctor."

"Ishay tells me she wants to stay at the landing site," she added after a short pause. "It's not a bad location."

When Bill turned to look at her questioningly, Laura shook her head with a slight smile.

"I wouldn't want to stay there permanently," she answered his unspoken question. "But it's good enough until we find the right place."

"I agree," Bill replied, dipping the raptors nose down as they began to approach their destination. "There's no need to hurry the decision. Once we lose the raptor, there'll be no going back."

Laura watched in silence as Bill steered their transport towards the spot they had left early in the morning, and as he routinely took them through all the necessary steps to bring the old raptor safely to the ground.

"You'll miss flying, won't you?" she observed out loud, still struck by the ease of his movements in the cockpit. Despite the slight question in her voice, it was really more of a statement since the truth was quite obvious.

Bill glanced at Laura and then returned his attention to the descent.

"Yeah," he said, his eyes on the ground below. "I imagine I will," he paused, glancing at Laura again, "but there are other things I'd miss far more."

Laura could feel herself blush. Bill had not said it out loud, but it was clear enough he had meant her, and she was still working on accepting his love the way he intended it; as a gift she was not obliged to return unless she truly felt the same.

Unsure of how to respond, she let a silence fall between them until the raptor touched down on the grass with a soft thump.

"Well, here we are," Bill cleared his throat, pressing a button to open the raptor door. They both unbuckled and, after thanking Bill for the ride, Laura hastily helped herself out as he stayed behind to power down the equipment.

As she stepped on to the wing of the raptor, she saw a young man in standard military greens waiting just off the perimeter of their landing spot. To her surprise, Laura felt there was something familiar about him.

"Madam President," the young man greeted her formally but with a hint of uncertainty. It was a title Laura had heard a number of times since arriving on Earth, but it still sounded foreign to her ears. As far as she knew, the office of the president had been abolished, but there were people who still referred to her as the president simply because they did not know what else to call her. Perhaps this young man was the same.

"I'm sorry," Laura began her now familiar speech of greeting, "It's quite possible we've met before but..."

"You don't remember me, I know," the man replied with a bashful smile, offering her his arm as she stepped off the raptor. "My father has kept me updated on your recovery."

Laura smiled, realization dawning on her. "Then you must be Lee Adama," she exclaimed, taking another look at him now that she was aware of the connection. "I wish I could..." she paused, suddenly picturing herself perched on the plush seat of a Colonial luxury liner, facing a man who looked like Lee Adama, but with shorter hair, dressed in a full pilot suit.

The confusion must have shown on her face as the man, Lee, took a tighter hold of her arm.

"Madam Pr...Ms. Roslin, are you alright?" he asked, still apparently uncertain how to actually address her.

Laura shook her head, the image gone as quickly as it had appeared. "I'm fine, Captain Apollo," she assured him and then paused again, looking at Lee in surprise.

"Did I just call you Captain Apollo?" she asked, suddenly not sure if the name had come from her early journal entries or from the deep recesses of her mind. It had rolled out of her lips with an ease she was not accustomed to.


	10. Work

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it has taken me so long to update! I hope there is still interest towards this story. :)

"How does she remember Lee but not me?" Bill asked Cottle as soon as the old doctor stepped into their shared tent, ready to turn in for the night.

He wasn't sure what frustrated him more: that it had been Lee who Laura had finally reacted to, after weeks of no memories at all being triggered by his own presence, or the fact that Laura had not said anything of it herself. Bill had only heard about it from Lee, who had pulled him aside later that evening to ask if her memory was returning, because he had thought there had been something almost like recognition in the way she had reacted to him. And, apparently, she had deemed it important enough to share with Cottle.

"Well, she doesn't _really_ remember Lee now does she?" the man in question pointed out, taking a slow drag off his cigarette as he regarded Bill. "She appears to have experienced something that might have been a memory when she saw him, but nothing else has come back since then. Believe me, I was with her for two hours and we tried several different exercises to jog her memory further."

"What was that thing with Lee about then?" Bill asked, trying to sound less impatient. If he put aside his own frustration, he knew this could only be good news and he should appreciate it as such. "Is her memory returning?"

"Only time will tell," Cottle replied, his expression revealing very little. "But I would take it as a good sign. Some parts of her memory might very well be returning, even if it's just jumbled fragments for now."

"But why him and not me?" Bill could not help asking. He knew he was now sounding ungrateful, petulant even, considering how momentous it was that Laura might have remembered anything at all, but he would have been lying to himself if he didn't admit that he had been hoping that Laura's memories returning would be something the two of them shared together. Not something she shared with Lee.

"She sees me every day and...nothing," Bill sighed, more to himself now than to Cottle.

"Maybe that's why. She sees you every day, but she hasn't seen Lee since the operation, so his face was a fresh trigger," Cottle offered.

Bill nodded, his thoughts on Laura in the tent a few yards down, suddenly wondering if she could hear their conversation.

"If or when her memories return," the doctor continued, "it's not likely going to be one big revelation and fireworks. She could remember many tiny, seemingly insignificant details before recalling anything...what yo might consider truly important, and it might not always be chronological. I'm not a neurologist, but the brain is a very complicated organ."

"I understand," Bill replied. "And every memory she regains, whether it involves me or not, is important. I was just being selfish."

"I'm sure nobody could accuse you of that," Cottle only replied, lighting up another cigarette as he slipped out of the tent, apparently having decided he needed one more smoke in peace and quiet before bedtime.

* * *

The next morning Bill woke up to bright sunlight and the sound of birds tweeting outside of his tent. For the first time in several weeks, or perhaps even several years, he felt truly rested and, despite the vexation of the previous night, he realized he was now feeling surprisingly content. The only thing missing - the only thing that could have made everything perfect - was the feeling of Laura's warm body pressed against him.

Bill missed being able to wake up with her in his arms, deeply regretting that for the last several weeks when he'd still had that opportunity, he had been too drunk or too hungover far too often to fully appreciate how lucky he had been.

And yet, despite his regrets, he couldn't deny that he was lucky even now. They were on Earth and Laura was still alive, not just hanging on by a thread, but actually healthy and thriving - growing stronger every day. He simply had to believe that the rest would come, eventually. Either Laura would remember or he would spend another four years or a lifetime making her fall in love with him again. For him, there was no alternative, and in the light of day it was easier to remain hopeful.

As Bill finally got up and donned his well-worn military greens before slipping out of the tent, he could soon see he had slept in. The sun was already high in the sky and everyone else seemed to be up and about, some laying foundations for a more permanent settlement, others gone out gathering and hunting for food. Laura, he found, was helping Ishay scan various plants for their potential usability as food or medicine.

"I don't mind getting rid of technology," Laura shrugged as Bill approached the ladies to observe what they were doing, "But it's just common sense to use what we have to determine what we can eat before packing it all in that raptor of yours and sending it away."

"You'll hear no arguments from me," Bill replied with a smile, his heart swelling as he watched Laura at her work, scanning fragments of plants and sorting them into different piles, depending on the result of the scan. Always so diligent and practical, she never could sit idle when there was a job to be done. Bill was only glad it was nothing more arduous than research for now. "Anything I can do to help?" he offered.

Laura smiled, a slow smile that contained a hint of mischief as she looked up at Bill from the ground. The beautiful day combined with the useful activity appeared to have put her in a good mood as well.

"That depends," she said thoughtfully, picking up a pen and rolling it between her fingers. "Are you any good at drawing?"

Bill was not sure what sort of herculean task he had expected, but it had certainly not been this. "Drawing?" he asked, a little confused even as he took the pen she was offering him.

"It'll be much easier to recognize the different plants in the wild if we have drawings of them instead of just written descriptions," Laura explained, effortlessly morphing back into a more professional tone. "Colours might be difficult to come by, but even simple sketches would help," she continued and Bill was almost as happy to see her like this, in her element as a natural leader and educator, as he had been just a moment before to see a glimpse of her playful side. "We will dry these samples of course," Laura went on, oblivious to his thoughts, "but they'll be fragile and not very practical to carry around. Those who go gathering will need something to look at until they learn to recognize the different plants on their own."

Bill smiled. "Ever the teacher," he replied simply, sitting down on the ground next to Laura.

Laura raised her eyebrow and, cocking her head to the side, seemed to observe Bill for a moment before she, too, allowed a slight smile. Earth really seemed to agree with her.

"You didn't answer my question," she pointed out finally, breaking the eye contact, "Can you draw or will I have to send you to gather more plants for testing?"

Bill had never had a particular talent for drawing, but for Laura he was determined to try, especially if the other alternative was being sent away on a solo mission when all he wanted to do was spend this beautiful day right where he was, next to the woman he loved.

"I'll do my best," he promised, reaching for the scraps of paper by Laura's side that someone had managed to produce for their use.

"In that case," she replied, "Would you mind starting from this pile?" She handed him a selection of plants that to Bill seemed to have no common denominator but which, as Laura explained, had all been found poisonous in their tests.

"We should start with these, I think," she reasoned, "so people will know what definitely not to pick. Leave some room on each page for a description as well so we can add to it when we know more," she instructed. "Oh and..." Laura glanced at Bill one more time, brushing her hand briefly on his arm, "they should only be poisonous if consumed orally, but you should probably wash your hands once you're done handling them. Just to be safe."

"I'll do that," Bill promised, a warmth spreading within him from where Laura's hand had touched his arm, fueled further by the thought of her concern.

He got to his work with determination and a level of concentration he hadn't mustered for the fine arts since the early drawing lessons of his elementary education. To his surprise, however, copying the likeness of the plants on paper was not as hard as he had feared and after the first few successful sketches he was able to start relaxing a little, knowing he had got the hang of it. As he looked up from his work, he realized that Ishay had left and only Laura remained by his side, silently scanning the plants that still remained in the unsorted pile, taking notes of the results and sorting them into several different piles with labels such as "poisonous", "poisonous, but might be edible if boiled", "potentially medicinal", "edible", and even "highly nutritious".

Bill guffawed slightly as his eyes returned to the "potentially medicinal" pile, wondering if perhaps there might be something among the plants that could also be smoked recreationally.

"What?" Laura asked curiously, having noticed his reaction.

"Just something I remembered," Bill replied with a smile that then faded as it hit him again that it was yet another memory he no longer shared with Laura.

She seemed to catch on his reaction and only mouthed an "Oh," in response before turning her attention back to the scanning of plants. Once again she chose not to ask, and they both continued their work in silence for a while.

Bill wondered, as he sketched, what Laura might be thinking, and ever so often he stole glances in her direction to try to gauge her present mood, but she had a knack for being difficult to read if she chose to. She appeared to be completely focused on her task of scanning and sorting the plants, but Bill was sure there was much more running through her head. There nearly always was.

"Have you seen Lee today?" he asked at last, no longer able to keep himself from touching the subject.

Laura paused and looked up at Bill. "Only briefly in the morning," she replied before continuing her work. "He said he was going out exploring and might not be back today."

"Sounds like him," Bill replied, putting down his sketch. He paused, cleared his throat, and then continued: "Yesterday, when you first met him, you..."

"Bill..." Laura interrupted him, looking up again, this time with a rueful smile. "Don't do this to yourself. I don't know if I truly remembered anything or not, and that's why I didn't want to say anything to you. It might have been just something I read in the journals, but even if it was a genuine memory, it was nothing more than a flash that I couldn't hold on to."

"Even if that's all it was, it's something," Bill pointed out, then lifted his hand when Laura seemed ready to argue: "I know it doesn't necessarily mean anything," he assured her, "I know that, and I can accept it, but it also _could_ mean something."

He paused and waited for Laura to meet his eyes.

"Wouldn't you allow an old man at least that?" he asked when she finally did.

She said nothing but, after a moment of hesitation, nodded almost imperceptibly. Then she turned her attention back to the plants.

Bill assumed her move signaled the end of their discussion and returned to his work as well, his heart a little heavier than it had been just moments before. To his surprise, however, they had not been working for long before Laura spoke up again:

"When I saw Lee, it wasn't the first time it felt like I remembered something," she said hesitantly, "It could be nothing, but I've had these...flashes of something that might be memories. It's just that they're so fleeting I can never make sense of them."

Bill could feel his heart beat a little faster. "Has that happened often?"

"Not really," Laura replied, shaking her head, "But yesterday when we were flying over the savannas and we talked about the cabin, I tried to picture what it would have been like, and I could see a scenery that was nothing like we've seen here so far. Rocky and damp, mostly, but by the lake there was something green as well."

"New Caprica," Bill breathed.

"Maybe," Laura said after a long pause, "But I don't know if it's just something I conjured up based on what I'd read about the place, or if I was remembering something I had actually seen."

"Have you told Cottle this?" Bill asked eagerly.

"Yes, I told him yesterday," Laura replied. "He is of the opinion I shouldn't try so hard. That I seem to get those flashes mostly when I'm relaxed, and not actively trying to remember anything."

Bill had to admit the doctor was probably right.

"I really do wish I could remember you," she continued in a softer tone, surprising Bill with her candor. "I hope you know that."

When she reached her hand to gently rub his arm, Bill knew with sudden certainty that she _had_ heard him and Cottle the night before, and he sincerely wished he had sounded less pathetic then.

"I know," he replied simply, closing his hand over hers. "And I would never ask anything more of you."

She smiled ruefully before pulling her hand away and picking up another piece of a plant. There was still work to do.


	11. Changes

Laura stood at the edge of the clearing, watching as Bill maneuvered down his old raptor towards the spot that was reserved for it. He had been out all day, flying Dr. Cottle to his new home at the settlement by the river and helping him get established there. Laura herself had already said her goodbyes to the grumpy old doctor in the morning, after he had given her the all clear in her final check up.

 _"You come see me sometime, young lady,"_ he had said in his gruff voice after Laura had thanked him for everything he had done for her. Then, before either could get too sentimental, he had added briskly: _"And take that old Admiral with you if you'd like. If he's too much trouble I'll set him straight for you."_

With a smile barely concealing her tears, Laura had promised that she would.

Now, of the two men she had first seen after waking up over two months ago, with no memory of where she was or what had happened, she only had Bill left. Laura knew the time was coming when she too would have to make her final decision regarding where and how she wanted to set up a permanent home. With everyone else already settling into their new lives on the planet, all modern technology forsaken, she was well aware that they could not, in all fairness, hold on to the raptor and its equipment for much longer, even on account of Laura's health that was now almost completely restored.

The only problem was that she still couldn't remember anything of consequence, and she still didn't know how she truly felt about Bill. That she cared about him and his well being was almost a given, but she did not believe she loved him. Not like she knew she must have loved him once, before she lost her memory, or how he still loved her, or how he wished she would love him again. Where their feelings had perhaps once been equal, all Laura could see now was the gaping disparity between what they felt for one another. It was a difference that seemed to loom over all of their interactions.

As the raptor finally touched down on the ground, rousing Laura from the depth of her thoughts, she suddenly felt a shudder run down her spine despite the warm weather. For an instant she was not standing on the green grass of Earth but in an unfamiliar hangar bay with blinking lights that were definitely not of Colonial standard, and Bill was stepping off a similar looking raptor in his full flight gear. The unbidden image was gone almost as soon as it had appeared, though, and as Laura's eyes focused again on the present, she saw the familiar grass under her feet and then Bill, in his less formal army greens, stepping out of the aircraft in the here and now.

When his eyes met Laura's on his way down, he smiled and then made his way directly to her, almost placing his hands on her shoulders when he reached her, but then holding back at the last minute, allowing his arms to fall by his sides instead. To her surprise, Laura found herself almost wishing he had gone through with his initial action.

 _"Missed you."_ The two words seemed to float out of nowhere into Laura's mind, spoken in Bill's rough baritone, and she shuddered again.

The smile on Bill's face instantly gave way to concern.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, noting her shudder. "Are you cold?" He felt her forehead with her hand. "You're not running a fever are you?"

Laura shook her head slightly but did not reply at once, still trying to trace back the elusive memory. Finally, when Bill kept fidgeting with increasing worry and then began talking about fetching Cottle back, she shook her head again and assured Bill everything was fine, letting the moment pass.

"I just thought for a moment...that I was remembering something," she admitted reluctantly when he still looked concerned. There was no point, really, trying to keep it from Bill anymore, even if it resulted in him getting his hopes up in vain. It seemed whatever she did, she couldn't avoid hurting him.

The all too familiar glimmer of hope appeared in his eyes almost instantly even though Laura could see he was making an effort to keep his face impassive.

"What was it?" he asked with enthusiasm barely disguised.

"A spaceship," Laura replied after a short hesitation. "Not Galactica...it seemed more like Cylon technology, but you were coming out of a raptor like you did just now, and I think I was waiting for you."

"And?" Bill prompted. Laura could tell what she had told him had affected him a great deal, but he was still struggling not to let it show.

"And nothing," she sighed, watching with a sinking feeling as her words seemed to have an instant deflating effect on Bill. "It's gone now."

They both remained silent for a moment, having seemingly reached yet another dead end in their attempt to connect. When Bill finally smiled again, his smile was a mixture of fondness and sorrow.

"It was a special day," he said at last, looking at Laura with his cobalt blue eyes. "Would you like me to tell you about it?" he asked hopefully.

Laura could tell this was something he truly wanted to share with her, and she was almost certain, based on the way even the flash of that memory had sent chills down her spine, that the moment she had failed to remember was somehow significant.

It would have been so easy to say no, but Laura knew she was running out of excuses. Even while she hesitated, she could already see the hope in Bill's eyes fading, preparing for yet another rejection.

She was tired of constantly being a source of pain to him.

"Please...please do," Laura said at last, her voice wavering a little as she spoke. "I'd like that very much," she added, knowing she hadn't exactly been keen until now to ask him about their shared past. In fact, she had been avoiding it at all cost - a fact she could now see reflected in Bill's reaction.

"Are you sure?" he asked, as if scarcely believing he had heard her correctly.

"I'm sure," she assured him. "Tell me about that day." 

And then Bill did.

She had known, of course, about her brief stay on the Cylon basestar as it had been described in her journals, but it had been a very brief account, focused on events and outcomes affecting the fleet rather than any personal experiences. Laura hadn't thought much of it while reading it, but Bill's words now told her a different, far more detailed story.

She had been presumed dead and lost, left behind by the entire fleet except for Bill who had simply refused to accept her demise - Bill, who would rather have accepted his own death alone in deep space than a life without her. He didn't perhaps express the situation quite so dramatically, but it was the truth Laura could read between the lines, and it was what she could easily believe based on her existing knowledge of the depth of his devotion. 

"You had never looked more beautiful to me than when I saw you waiting for me after I'd landed," Bill said, a far away look in his eyes that gave Laura an unexpected sting as she was unable to share in the recollection.

Then his eyes focused on her again and he smiled.

"That was the first time you told me you loved me," he said after a pause.

"I did?" Laura asked, her voice coming out surprisingly small. In a strange way, she thought she could almost feel it then, like an echo of something that had once been. A tenderness for the man standing in front of her that she couldn't quite explain or quantify.

"You did," Bill replied softly, caressing her cheek with the back of his calloused hand. "And I told you it was about time."

At this, Laura let out an involuntary snort.

"About time?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "You did not!"

"To be fair, you did take your time," Bill replied with a hint of amusement mixed with the still tender tone of his voice. "So you know," he added, the look in his eyes shifting again, "I'm used to waiting for you."

Laura looked down as she allowed his words to sink in. They had not been accusatory in the least, but she still felt guilty for putting him in this position - waiting for something that she couldn't promise him would ever happen.

"I'm sorry," she said at last, "for making you wait again."

"Don't be," Bill replied placing his fingers under her chin, tilting her head so that she couldn't avoid his eyes. "You're alive and I would thank the gods every day for that if I believed in them. Sometimes I thank them regardless."

There was not much Laura could say back to such an admission. She simply nodded her head to acknowledge his words and then pulled away from his touch with an apologetic smile.

  


As they walked back towards their tents, Laura, who was keen to avoid a long silence, began talking about her day.

She told Bill how she had gone out with Ishay for a long walk, gathering plants for eating. They had found roots that had reminded her of the sweet potatoes that had once been grown on Caprica, and they had tested positive for being both edible and nutritious. Laura told Bill she had taken some of the roots with her, not just for eating, but for further cultivation.

"We will have to start growing things of our own soon," she told him. "It didn't work on New Caprica, I know. I've read that the soil was almost barren and for most of the year it was too cold, but here...here we could plant anything and be almost self-sufficient if we plan and time the crops well enough. It might take a few years to get it right and to optimize the rotation, but I believe it can be done." 

Laura paused when she realized Bill was looking at her strangely.

"What?" she asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious again under his gaze.

"Just listening to your speak," Bill replied, his voice catching a little. "Sometimes I still can't believe we're here. That you are not just alive but full of life, planning a future." He paused a few yards away from the tent that, with Cottle gone, was now all his. "You keep saying 'we'," he added then, looking at Laura intently. "I wonder...is that a collective 'we', or...?"

He didn't need to finish the question. Laura knew perfectly well what he meant. It was a decision she couldn't keep pushing forward for much longer. The only problem was, she still didn't know how to answer the question.

What if they settled in a cabin, just the two of them, but her memories never returned and she never learned to love Bill the way he loved her? Would being alone with him eventually just become a burden for both of them until they resented each other? And yet, what if they settled in a village? What if her memories came back along with the dream they had apparently shared of building a cabin together, only it would be too late because they'd be living in the village and with no raptor to fly away with anymore?

"Never mind," Bill said at last as Laura could not find the words to reply. "You don't have to answer." he added softly. "I have no right to be impatient."

As he turned and began slowly trudging towards his tent, head bent down, Laura realized there was at least one thing she did know. Perhaps she didn't love Bill yet. She couldn't even promise him that she would. But with sudden clarity of thought, she knew she _wanted_ to love him.

"Wait," she said, taking a few steps after him so that when he paused, she was right at his heels.

It was a sudden, reckless idea, and Laura could feel his heart thumping in her chest as she watched Bill turn to face her again, closer than she had anticipated.

"I thought maybe..." she started, glancing past Bill towards his tent, sealing her decision as her eyes darted back to him. "With Cottle gone, I thought maybe we should try...sharing a tent?"she suggested, keeping her voice measured, as if the idea hadn't only just occurred to her.

The light that returned to Bill's eyes before he could even reply, was enough to assure Laura she had made the right choice.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his eyes searching hers for confirmation.

Laura nodded, swallowing whatever doubts she might still have had. "We can't live here, like this, for much longer," she said, smoothing the wrinkled fabric of his old army jacket, feeling his heartbeat under her fingers. "If we're going to live together, this is the only chance we'll have to try it before making a final decision."

She kept saying 'we' but she knew the decision was really all hers. Bill would do whatever she decided - would go with her wherever she wanted. It was a humbling thought and Laura could feel its pressure as she struggled to make the decision that would be right for them both.

"It might still smell of Cottle's cigarettes." Bill's half teasing voice brought Laura back to the present and she caught the smile in his eyes as she looked up at him. 

"Oh, we can leave the flaps open for a while," she replied, tentatively returning his smile. "Or sleep under the stars." Then, still following an impulse, she stood on her tiptoes and pressed a quick peck on Bill's lips before turning away and hastily retreating into her own tent to pick up her belongings, leaving a stunned Bill in her wake.


	12. Chapter 12

Bill loved watching Laura sleep. He always had but now, after coming so close to losing her in more ways than one, he valued the privilege more than ever before. It was the only time he could look at her unguarded, without worry of causing her discomfort with his gaze.

The first night in their shared tent had been an intricate dance of stolen glances and skirting around each other awkwardly, trying to find their own space without stepping into the other's. In some ways it had reminded Bill of the first nights Laura had spent in his quarters after starting her doloxin treatments, slowly carving out a place for herself and making it her own as much as it had once been his, until the line between his and hers ceased to exist altogether and it all simply became theirs. The only difference was that back then there had already been familiarity and deep affection on both sides, unacknowledged as it might still have been. Now it was not quite so, even though, in his most optimistic moments, Bill thought he could detect Laura slowly growing more comfortable around him. On the best days, he even thought she might be growing genuinely fond of him, seeking his company rather than avoiding it.

Now, as Laura begun to stir, Bill reluctantly averted his eyes and started busying himself with preparing what passed for coffee, using the last of their meager rations brought back from Galactica. It wasn't much and barely resembled the real coffee he knew Laura missed from Caprica, all the more so from not being used to the algae supplement they'd all been using for a long time now, but it was the best he could offer.

"Hmmm," Laura's still sleepy hum soon broke the silence of the tent, followed by a groggy "good morning."

Bill's head shot up at the sound of her voice, a warm smile spreading across his features.

"Good morning," he replied. "I hope I didn't wake you."

Laura yawned, her arms breaking out from under her duvet as she stretched them.

"No, I think the sun did," she sighed at last, settling back against her pillows.

For a moment, Bill could not take his eyes off her. He had missed the low cadence of her morning voice as much as he had missed simply being able to see her first thing in the morning, but now he also had the added pleasure of finally getting a good look at Laura's emerging growth of hair that she still kept hidden under a scarf during the day. By the time they had retired to the tent in the evening, it had been too dark to see properly, but now Bill could appreciate the auburn strands, short as they still were, in their full early morning glory, pointing in every direction after a night of sleep. Adorable wasn't a word frequently connected with Laura Roslin, but it was the only one Bill could think of to describe her in that moment.

Finally, when he realized Laura was growing self-conscious under his gaze, he averted his eyes and silently returned his attention to the brewing of the algae coffee. When it was ready, he handed Laura a cup.

"It's not much, but it's the best I can do for now," he offered. "Maybe we could try to find something actually resembling real coffee beans on this planet, though. It's a long shot, but it seems the flora and fauna are remarkably not that different from what we used to have in the colonies. There's just more of it."

"Isn't that strange?" Laura asked, sitting up in her cot. She took the cup Bill was offering, took a sip, and then made a face as she tasted the algae. "All those light years of traveling and we find a planet with life so perfectly matching our own biology? What are the odds?"

"I try not to think too much about it," Bill replied, pouring himself a cup as well. "All that talk of destiny and prophecies...I don't know about that, but we're here and that's what counts. We finally have a place to call home."

"It's a lot to wrap my head around, still," Laura admitted thoughtfully. Bill nodded but remained quiet, hoping she would continue. He was pleasantly surprised to find her in such a candid mood after only their first night under the same tent.

"To you, Caprica and all our home worlds must seem so distant by now," she went on after a beat. "But to me, it's like yesterday I was still sitting in cabinet meetings, wondering about what I would wear to the next important dinner or mentally writing down a shopping list for the weekend." She took another sip of the makeshift coffee before setting the cup down. "It's hard to fathom that that life doesn't exist anymore and I can't just take a colonial liner and be home by tomorrow."

"You must really miss it," Bill replied ruefully. He wished it didn't feel like such a blow to hear Laura talk about the life she used to have - the life in which he had no place.

"That's the strange thing," Laura replied after a short pause. "I would have thought I'd miss it more but...I don't really. Apart from one or two friends I wish I could see again, there's not really anything or anyone I miss very much. No, not even Richard," she added, giving Bill a pointed look. "I'm still shaken just thinking about the catastrophic loss of life in general, but I haven't suffered any personal losses. My loved ones were already gone before."

"It's funny," she added after a beat before Bill could reply, to once again offer his heartfelt condolences. "I never used to think my life was particularly empty. I was relatively happy with my life, actually, but in retrospect it can't have been very significant if I don't even miss it now. I mean, sure, I miss the comforts. The food and," she paused to make a face at the discarded cup of algae coffee, "definitely the coffee, but not much else."

"Perhaps it just means you got the best of both worlds," Bill offered. "You weren't unhappy in your old life and yet now, having been thrown into a completely different one, you're not devastated to have lost what you had before. I know none of this can have been easy for you, but it could have been so much harder if, on top of it all, you had lost something truly important." 

"Hmm," Laura hummed, trying the coffee again. "Perhaps you're right. And yet..." she paused and glanced at Bill, a wan smile grazing her lips. "I can't help feeling I _have_ lost something truly important."

Her unexpected words seared through Bill's heart as he understood that she did not mean her life on Caprica, but the subsequent years that had been wiped from her memory. Perhaps even, more specifically, she had meant him - _them_.

"Not lost," he said, his voice crackling a little. "Just...misplaced, perhaps."

"Perhaps," Laura repeated, but her voice lacked conviction.  


* * *

  
Over the next several days, they settled into a simple rhythm. Most of their days were spent in useful labor, cataloging plants and helping those who were starting to build more permanent homes to get started with their work. Often, after a day's work, Bill would take his raptor and fly out in search of that perfect spot he hoped Laura might one day want to build her cabin on. Sometimes she would accompany him, but often she seemed to prefer having that time to herself on the ground, and Bill could not begrudge her for it. They spent most of their time together already as it was.

The nights and mornings, however, were always Bill's favorite part of the day. He would wait outside until Laura had changed into her nightwear (which at this point was nothing but a threadbare old tank top that was slightly too big for her) and slipped into her cot before he joined her inside, stripped down to his tanks by the cover of darkness and then got into his own cot on the other side of the tent. Sometimes, if the day had been long, they would both fall asleep almost instantly. Other times they'd read, in silence or to each other, and sometimes, as darkness engulfed them, they'd simply talk of everything and nothing (but mostly of the toils of the day) until one or both fell asleep. The mornings were often much the same, only in reverse order, and with the added number of preparing breakfast together. It was simple, but it was more BIll could ever have dreamed of in his darkest days after Laura's operation.

Even though their relationship, such as it was, still lacked intimacy, Bill could sense a shift towards more openness and trust in Laura's attitude towards himself. It reminded him somewhat of the months following Kobol when they had slowly begun building a true friendship based on trust and common ground after the tumult and doubt of their early acquaintance. It had been a slow process then, and it might be again now, but Bill was prepared to wait if that was what it took, even when there were times he ached to hold her and touch her in ways he knew she wasn't ready for.

 

"A cubit for your thoughts."

Bill, sitting by the small pond off the edge of their settlement, had not heard Laura approach but at the sound of her voice he turned instantly to face her. His reply, however, died on his lips as he found himself staring at a very muddy and disheveled Laura Roslin.

"Gods, is everything alright?" he asked, springing to his feet. "What happened?"

Laura smiled, placing a calming hand on Bill's chest and then quickly removing it upon realizing it had left a mark.

"Nothing," she assured him, a hint of playfulness in her voice as she used her other, slightly less muddy hand to try and clean the smudge on Bill's jacket. "The clay just gets everywhere."

Because the nearby area only had a limited amount of suitable building wood, it had been agreed that clay would be used to build huts for the people who wanted to settle there permanently. Bill had spent some of his days helping the builders, but the work had seemed to arduous for him to allow Laura anywhere near the clay pits. Apparently, while he had been out flying that day, she had come to a different conclusion on her own.

"Laura..." he said warningly. "You know what Cottle said before he left. Don't try to do too much too soon."

"He also told me to keep exercising," Laura pointed out dryly. "I've been sorting plants and herbs for days, Bill," she then added. "I just wanted to get my hands dirty for a change like everyone else, and it was only for a couple of hours."

When Bill opened his mouth to speak, Laura cut in: "I'm _fine_ , Bill," she assured him, her tone growing a little frustrated before her face again melted into a smile. "And now," she added, a touch of playfulness returning to her voice, "if you don't mind, I'd like to bathe."

"Bathe?" Bill parroted, a little thrown off.

"Bathe," Laura repeated, carefully enunciating the word as if speaking to a child. "Are you going to help me or hinder me?"

Surprised by the sudden turn of the conversation, Bill had no answer for Laura. His protests and concerns were melting rapidly as he took in more closely the sight of Laura. Underneath the mud and the clay, her face appeared to be glowing and she looked more alive than he had perhaps ever seen her, save for one or two of the happier days on New Caprica.

"What exactly do you have in mind?" he asked, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he drank her in. "The washing area is that way," he pointed out after a beat, nodding towards the enclosure where a makeshift, mostly manual shower system had been constructed with the help of some buckets and water lead from the pond into a large bowl inside the enclosure.

"It's a warm day," Laura replied, shrugging. "I thought I'd come straight to the source."

"And dip in?" Bill asked, eyeing the water suspiciously.

"And dip in," Laura confirmed with an impish smile, removing her scarf and running her fingers through her short hair that the combination of sweat and dirt had made cling to her scalp.

Since Bill could still not formulate a coherent response even while a number of different concerns rose to his mind, he did nothing to stop Laura as she approached the water, and when she motioned for him to turn around, he obliged without a word. He always had been powerless to deny her anything when this playful, slightly rebellious side of her emerged.

It did not take long before Bill could hear a resounding splash from behind his back and, as he turned to look, he found Laura submerged up to her neck in the water, her muddy clothes discarded on the ground. The joy written on her face was enough to send his heart soaring.

And it was contagious. If he could not recall when Laura had looked more alive, he also wasn't sure when he himself had _felt_ more alive.

"Well, are you going to just stand there?" Laura inquired, splashing a little water in his direction, only marginally hitting the bottom of Bill's trousers.

He wasn't sure if it was an invitation, but he decided to take it as such. Starting to unbutton his light jacket, he was soon interrupted by Laura.

"Bill..."

Steeling himself for a quick rejection, his hands stilled on the buttons. 

"Before you do that," Laura said, her light tone easing Bill's doubts, "Would you mind picking up a couple of towels and some clean clothes? I have nothing to change into."

Bill smiled, relieved.

"I'll be right back," he promised, sprinting towards the encampment for their shared tent where he quickly gathered two large towels and some fresh items of clothing for both of them.

When he returned, he found Laura swimming parallel to the shore, her bare back glistening as the later afternoon sun caressed the drops of water on her skin.

It was almost too perfect an image to disturb but, not wanting to be caught staring, Bill reluctantly made his presence known by clearing his throat. At the sound of his voice Laura turned, clearly unaware of the impression she had made, and began swimming back towards him.

"Thank you," she said when she reached him, just as Bill was laying the towels and clothes down on the grass. When he straightened his back, still hesitant about his next move, Laura tilted her head, looking at him expectantly.

"May I?" Bill asked hopefully, his hands returning to the half done buttons of his jacket. He was almost certain now she intended him to join her in the water, but he did not want to presume again. When Laura nodded her head, however, he wasted no time in undoing the rest of his buttons.

For a moment, Laura's eyes lingered on him as he shook off his jacket, but when Bill began pulling off his tanks, she modestly turned around and waited, like she had asked him to wait without looking, until he was in the water with her. Then she turned to face him again.

"Hi," Bill rasped, for lack of anything better to say, as they both stood in the water, their feet just reaching the soft bottom of the pond, sending up enough dirt to hide everything that remained under the surface.

"Hi," Laura replied, gingerly touching the top of the faded red scar dissecting Bill's chest. "Does it hurt?" she asked.

"Not anymore," Bill replied, taking Laura's outstretched hand and pressing it gently against his heart.

"Is it...from when that Cylon shot you?" she asked, visibly shaken. "Or an older wound?"

"From when the Cylon shot me," Bill replied, still holding on to Laura's hand. "You were held up in Galactica's brig at the time."

Laura chuckled, pulling her hand away. "I still can't believe you put in a brig," she said, shaking her head. "Everything must have been so different."

"It was," Bill replied, looking at Laura intently. "We didn't really know each other yet. Not in ways that mattered."

"And now?" Laura inched a little closer, her movement initiating a soft wave that splashed lightly against Bill's chest.

"I know you," he replied, employing every inch of his restraint to keep his hands from reaching out to her almost naked body, so tantalizingly close now.

She smiled wanly, inching still a little closer but not uttering a word.

"You know me too," Bill said, locking his eyes with hers, willing her to believe him. "You might not remember what used to be, but we've spent a lot of time together already since then, making new memories. You _know_ me."

"I know you," Laura echoed. She was now so close that Bill could no longer ignore his urge to let his hands find her waist under the water. When his palms made contact with her skin, Laura let out a slight gasp, but she did not recoil.

"I know you," she repeated softly, lifting her hands from beneath the surface to rest them lightly against Bill's shoulders.

"You know me," Bill repeated as his eyes darted to Laura's lips, slightly parted and inviting, and then back to her eyes, silently begging for permission.

Almost imperceptibly, she leaned forward, her eyes hooded as she too was looking at his lips, and there was no amount of rational thought that could have stopped Bill then. Before he could allow himself to second-guess, his mouth landed gently on her warm lips, tasting them almost reverently in a slow, sensual kiss - so familiar and yet so foreign, almost as if he was kissing her for the very first time. And Laura responded, hesitant at first, but growing in confidence as the kiss grew deeper.

This time, when he pulled away, she did not even try to run. Instead she stood, hands still on Bill's shoulders, and simply looked at him, her eyes alive with a mixture of emotions that Bill could not quite name before they faded.

"I know you," she sighed one more time, almost like a mantra now, as if she wanted to assure herself that it was true. Then Bill could feel her left hand slide slowly from his shoulder to the back of his head, her fingers sinking into his damp hair as she played with his overgrown curls.

"You hair," she hummed, leaning forward almost as if she intended to kiss him again, but before their mouths could make contact, she suddenly pulled back, a look of bewilderment on her face. "You hair," she repeated, a slight frown creasing her forehead as her fingers laced through his strands again. "Didn't it use to be much shorter?"


	13. Chapter 13

As Laura's fingers pulled on the strands of Bill's hair, she knew - even though it still was more a feeling than a specific memory - that he'd once sported a much shorter cut. Shorter than it had been when she had first woken up after her operation. She could almost see his face now; stern, closed off, his entire being rigid as he sat in front of her across a table.

She couldn't help feeling they must have been at odds. If this was a real memory, it had to be an early one.

When Laura looked back at the present day Bill, she found him looking at her expectantly.

"You remember something?" he asked, his eyes searching hers in barely disguised wonder.

Laura pulled back slightly - still her gut reaction to whenever she could sense Bill getting his hopes up.

"Maybe," she replied hesitantly, unable to deny that this time she truly believed she _was_ remembering something. As she lifted her hand again to trace a finger down Bill's temple, the picture in her mind grew more detailed. "Your face..." she spoke absently, her mind half in the present, half in the past. His face, such as she was remembering it right now, had looked beaten up. There had been a gash where her finger now traced his untarnished skin.

_"You planning to stage a military coup?"_

_"What?"_

_"Do you plan to declare martial law? Take over the government?"_

_"Of course not."_

Laura shuddered at the unexpected clarity of the memory, so unlike the hazy, unreachable flashes she had sporadically experienced until now. The realness of it felt almost suffocating, and suddenly she couldn't get out of the water fast enough.

"I...I have to go," she gasped, starting to scramble towards the bank of the water as she struggled to keep her breathing even.

"Laura!" Bill's voice behind her was almost panicked, but Laura yanked her arm free when she could feel his fingers circling her wrist. She couldn't talk to him right now, nor answer his questions. She needed to be alone.

Swiftly covering herself with a towel as soon as she was out of the water, not really caring how much Bill could see of her at that moment, Laura grabbed the rest of the clean clothes he had brought to the shore and ran towards the tents. Behind her, she could hear Bill getting out of the water as well, calling after her, but she did not turn. The flood of images that were now bombarding her mind were all she could focus on.

A colonial heavy liner.

 _Colonial One._

That earlier image of Lee in a flight suit, sitting opposite her in a plush chair, suddenly had a context as more and more fragments joined together to form a bigger picture. A visit to the cockpit. A priest holding out a scroll containing the scriptures. Her own hand up in the air, trembling with the enormity of what she was about to undertake.

_"I, Laura Roslin, do now avow and affirm..."_

"Oh gods," Laura whimpered as she tore open the flaps of her and Bill's tent and pushed inside, sinking into her cot, still wearing nothing but her towel and soaking wet underwear.

_"...protect and defend the sovereignty of the colonies..."_

"Laura?" Bill's urgent voice outside the tent alerted her back to the present. He had followed her out of the water.

_"...with every fiber of my being."_

"I- I'm fine," she sputtered, desperately pulling on her clothes as the cacophony of images and words ran through her head.

_"If we are even going to survive as a species..."_

Laura was still only half-dressed when Bill barged in, his own clothes ill-fittingly draping his still wet body as he rushed towards her without asking or waiting for permission.

_"...start having babies."_

When Bill's arms circled her, Laura had no strength to protest. She let him pull her to him and then rock her gently as the tears finally came, and she sobbed violently against his shoulder, completely unraveled by the jumbled mass of memories that were suddenly flooding her mind.

"It's okay," Bill hushed, running his fingers through her wet hair. "Let it out."

_"There's no Earth..."_

_"It's not enough to just live."_

Slowly, Laura's sobs began to ease, partly from exhaustion and partly as the chaotic surge of memories finally started to slow down, the images aligning together to form something more tangible and coherent.

She could not look at Bill, her memories and her knowledge of the present so at odds she didn't know how to join them together, but she burrowed herself deeper into his embrace, nevertheless, longing for the comfort only his arms could offer.

They remained that way for several minutes, Laura's breathing eventually growing steady as Bill held her to him, one hand caressing her back while the other cradled her head in a wordless declaration of love.

"Do you want to talk to about it?" His hoarse voice finally broke the silence that had long enveloped them. Outside, the sun was starting to set, casting an orange glow inside the tent through its slightly parted flaps. Through her exhaustion, Laura could feel the familiar surroundings and Bill's steady presence finally beginning to anchor her back in the present.

But she still didn't know how to put into words what she had just experienced. The memories she had longed for, hoping they would help her make sense of what had happened, had felt more like an assault ripping away the comforting blanket of ignorance.

"The day of the attacks," she finally managed to say, her face still buried against Bill's chest. "I remember it. All of it, I think." Laura pulled away, just enough to be able to look at Bill. His face - a vivid mixture of love, worry, and confusion - was in stark contrast to the look of the stern man she had just recalled. "The Cylons...the swearing in, you...me, first in a conference room and then later in your quarters," she went on. "I remember it."

Bill took in an audible breath, his face first lighting up and then clouding over again as Laura did not smile.

"We really couldn't stand each other," she said, a wan smile grazing her lips as she pulled herself a little further still, suddenly very aware she had only managed to pull on a tank top over her underwear before Bill had arrived.

"You already knew that," Bill reminded her gently, referring to what she had read in her journals and what they had sometimes discussed. Laura knew he was right, but the actual memory of it still felt different than the second hand accounts she had previously relied on. It applied to Bill, but it also applied to everything else. It was one thing to know in theory that one of her first acts as a president had been to leave behind the ships with no FTL. It was another to remember it and feel all the guilt anew.

"Is that all you remember?" Bill tried again after a moment when Laura remained silent.

She nodded in response. "For now at least," she replied meekly. The intensity with which the memories had flooded her mind, most of them deeply disturbing, almost made her wish she wouldn't have to experience the same again anytime soon.

Bill smiled at her reassuringly. "But this is good, is it not?" he asked. "You remembering."

"Perhaps," Laura replied evasively, avoiding Bill's eyes.

"Laura?" he tilted her head gently. "What's wrong?"

In a strange twist of fate, part of her almost wanted to feel Bill's lips on hers again - to just live in the moment and forget everything she had just remembered. She had spent so long in conflict over how she should feel about him, wishing she could remember the past, that it had to be some sort of a cosmic joke that now, when she thought she might be slowly falling for him in the present, she could suddenly recall the time from the past when they had been adversaries.

At another time Laura might have laughed at the absurdity of it, but now she could only look at Bill, unable to communicate her thoughts while they barely made sense to herself.

"It's all just...a bit much," was all she finally managed to say, and it wasn't a lie. "I...I think I might need some time alone," she added then, getting off her cot and scrambling for her scattered clothes. She didn't need to even look at Bill to picture the dejected look on his face.

"Should I leave?" he asked quietly, getting up as well.

Laura shook her head. "No," she replied, pulling a sweater over her head. "I'd like to take a little walk while there's still some light."

"It'll be dark soon," Bill pointed out, his fingers brushing her arm while his eyes pleaded with hers. "Don't go too far."

Laura smiled weakly. She had never been good at stomaching men who were overly protective, but there was nothing patronizing about Bill's plea, only genuine concern for her safety and well being. It was hard to argue against.

"I won't," she promised simply before slipping out of the tent.

  


As she walked back towards the pond, Laura let her mind return to the memories that had rushed through her mind earlier with such force that she had barely had time to process them at the time. All of it, she discovered as she inspected her memories, was in line with what she had already known, but she also realized that no words could ever have done justice to the actual experience.

And the cancer. She could remember it now. How she had left for Galactica with a death sentence over her head, the pain in her breast that had been present for some time as a dull ache, suddenly made worse by the knowledge that it was killing her.

Her hand flew to the same breast now, soft and whole. She could find no hardened mass where she remembered it being. No pain, either, dull or sharp. And yet the memory of it was now so fresh it almost felt like all of it had happened yesterday. Like the pain and the lump should still be there.

As Laura's steps took her back to the water bank, she found her muddy clothes where she had discarded them earlier, left there on the ground as she had fled so hastily.

"President of the Twelve Colonies", she muttered wryly as she picked up the old rags. "Building clay huts in gods only know where."

A moment passed as she looked towards the darkening horizon, away from the setting sun. A breathtaking view she could never have dreamed of in her condo back in Caprica City.

"Earth," she then whispered to herself, feeling a sense of serenity slowly return.

 _"There's no Earth."_ Laura recalled again her own words as if she had only just thrown them at Bill - a little smugly, her voice a mixture of challenge and intrigue.

But they truly were on Earth now. Perhaps not the one they had set out to find, but another planet - a better one. One not marred by the chaos they had all inflicted upon themselves.

Sitting down by the pond as the sun slowly disappeared behind the horizon, Laura finally allowed herself to relax again. While taking deep breaths, she thought first of the past and then of the present, the gap between the two still difficult to reconcile.

Once again Laura's thoughts returned to Bill - the man she had come to know and the man she now remembered, presenting themselves to her almost as two different people. For the first time she thought she might have an inkling of an idea what it must have been like for Bill to have had the Laura he knew, and who knew him, and the Laura she was now, her memories lagging several years behind. There had to be a difference even though Bill steadfastly refused to acknowledge it. Or perhaps they, as people, had not changed so much - only their knowledge of each other had.

Laura wasn't sure how long she sat there, lost in her thoughts, but eventually it was the sound of Bill's voice calling for her that alerted her to how much time must have passed. Around her it was already pitch dark, but the nightly fires kept around the small tent village to ward off wildlife were clearly visible. She could see Bill's frame silhouetted against the orange glow of the flames, but from his hurried movements and continued calls, Laura could tell he had not seen her in the darkness.

Slowly, Laura got up and began walking towards the lights surrounding the encampment. When she was close enough to not have to shout, she got Bill's attention by speaking his name without raising her voice.

Bill was by her side in an instant.

"Laura!" he exclaimed, pulling her into a tight, spontaneous hug. When he pulled away enough to look at Laura, she could see the worry still etched in his features.

"What happened to not going far?" he chided.

"I didn't," Laura replied, attempting a reassuring smile. "I was just over there, by the pond."

"In the dark," Bill pointed out. There was no accusation in his voice, but she knew he wasn't happy that she had stayed so long, and Laura had to admit his worries were not entirely unfounded. Despite their still limited knowledge of the local fauna, she knew there were all sorts of predators out there that could have sneaked up on her in the night, despite the relative safety offered by the fires of the nearby settlement.

"I'm sorry," Laura replied with genuine regret, accepting Bill's arm as they began walking back towards the tents. "I truly didn't mean to stay so long."

"I should have come to look for you sooner," Bill replied darkly, shaking his head.

"Bill," Laura paused, waiting for him to stop walking as well. She could not allow him to carry any guilt for her own carelessness. "I'm safe;" she assured him. "Nothing bad happened."

Bill look at her for a long moment, and then lifted his hand to briefly cup her cheek. "But something could have," he said as he let his hand fall. "And if anything did, I would never have been able to forgive myself."

They walked in silence the rest of the way to their tent.


	14. Chapter 14

The next day, and the days that followed, Bill found Laura more withdrawn than she had been prior to her sudden burst of memories. It wasn't that she was directly avoiding him, or that was at least what Bill liked to tell himself, because they still shared the same tent and went through the motions of cohabitation, but they talked very little and during the days she mostly sought solitude and quiet reflection, constantly finding tasks only suited for a single person. If she had gained any new memories since the day by the pond, she had not shared them.

BIll, for his part, when he wasn't involved in the building work, took out his raptor more frequently than before, flying in all directions in search of the elusive, perfect location for the cabin he still hoped they would one day build.

And it was during one of those flights that he finally found it.

The first thing that caught his eye was the glimmer of a small lake by the root of a mountain. Then, as Bill flew closer, the image grew clearer and he could see more details that all corresponded with what he had hoped to find. The view, when he landed his raptor and stepped out to take a better look, was breathtaking. On one side, there were green hills that in the distance rose up towards the sky to form a lofty line of mountains, and on the other there lay an even greener valley that followed a lazy river as far as Bill's eyes could see. On the side of the mountains, a thin stream rushed down towards the lake, bringing fresh water into the valley from the snowy tops.

He did not know exactly what Laura's lake in New Caprica had looked like, having never had the opportunity to see it before the Cylons arrived, but Bill was certain she would love the place he had found. It held everything they could ever possibly need in one secluded pocket. The water in the mountain stream was cold and fresh, perfect for drinking just as it was, whereas the larger river on the opposite side of the lake held a promise of fish and a possible route to other settlements if they ever built a boat. And there were trees. Not a large forest, but certainly more than enough for them to be able to use local wood to build their cabin and anything else they might need - even keep a fire going for cooking and warmth, if the nights ever got cold.

That was, of course, if Laura wanted to settle there - or anywhere - with him.

He had to believe that she would.

 

Bill spent most of that day by the lake, walking around it and envisioning a life there with Laura. He pictured where the cabin would be built, close enough to the stream to make drinking water easy to reach even as they grew older. Perhaps he could even use what piping he had salvaged form Galactica to lead the water all the way to the cabin.

There was plenty of room for a garden too that could be expanded as they got the hang of how to grow things. Bill knew he had never had much of a green thumb, but he hoped perhaps Laura would have. If not, they'd figure it out together like they always did.

Bill smiled at the thought. He could so easily picture a life in this place with Laura. Days of hard work and leisure following one another as their little world would slowly grow and take shape. A woodshed and an outhouse would follow the cabin. By the lake he would build a little dock and tie a boat to it. They'd row it down the river and meet other people, or not meet anyone at all, for weeks or months or years. He didn't really care as long as he and Laura were together. In his dreams they always were.

And the cabin would have an easterly view so they could watch the sunrise as they took their breakfast by the porch.

It would be everything they had ever dreamed of during those long nights on Galactica when all they'd had were each other and the fading hope that life could still offer them something other than what they had been dealt.

If only.

With a sigh, Bill let his mind zap back to reality. Laura was not ready yet. He knew it, no matter how much he'd have liked to believe otherwise. She had made a lot of progress, but for every two steps forward, there seemed to be at least one step back.

 

By the time Bill finally left the lake, the sun had already dipped well below the horizon and everywhere around him was completely dark. It was later still when he finally made it back to the settlement, and as Bill stepped off the wing of the raptor, his heart leaped at the sight of Laura, standing in wait just off the edge of the landing site. It had only been hours but he had missed her dearly, and even his concern at finding her there alone in the dark could not entirely diminish his simple joy of seeing her, especially when he could reason that the approaching raptor would definitely have driven away any nearby wildlife for the time being. She was not in harm's way.

To his surprise, however, Laura had apparently been less certain about his safety.

When Bill reached her, instead of a the customary "hello" he was expecting, Laura simply threw her arms around him, exhaling a muffled "you're back" against his shoulder.

Instinctively, Bill responded by holding her close, running a hand up and down her back until he could feel Laura shift in his arms.

Sensing she was about to break the hug, Bill held on but pulled away enough to be able to see her face. "Laura?" he asked, wishing she would look at him, "Is everything alright?"

Laura's eyes remained cast down but she nodded her head in affirmative.

"You were gone so long," she admonished him then, smoothing the fabric of Bill's shirt over his chest, still not meeting his eyes. "It's been dark for nearly two hours and I thought...I thought something had happened."

Relieved that this was about his absence rather than anything that had happened to her, Bill could not help but smile at the thought of Laura worrying about his well-being. As little as he ever wanted to give her cause to worry, it nevertheless warmed his heart to know she cared enough to do so.

And he could still remember how frantic with fear he had been himself the time Laura had been out alone after sunset.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, tilting her face up. "I should have turned back sooner, but..." for a moment he hesitated, wondering if he should tell Laura now about the place he had found, or wait for a better moment. 

He decided he could not wait to share it with her.

"I found it, Laura," he told her, carefully gauging her reaction. "A stream running into a lake by the root of a mountain," he rasped. "With water so clear it's like looking through glass."

Bill could see rather than hear the sudden intake of breath as Laura took in his words. He knew that even without any memory of the place, she recognized the description from her journals and understood what he was telling her. What he was indirectly asking her.

Other than her surprise, however, it was hard to tell how she felt about the news.

"It sounds beautiful," she replied at last, a wistful note in her voice.

"It is," BIll replied, but his eyes were on Laura as he spoke, and she was all he could see when he added softly: "Very beautiful."

He thought then he could detect something of a blush on Laura's cheeks before she cast her eyes down again, looking bashful in a way that Bill wasn't sure he had ever seen her be before.

Feeling bold, he decided to roll the hard six:

"I could spend the rest of my life there." He paused and waited for Laura to look at him. "With you, if you will," he added in a hoarse whisper, almost afraid to search for the answer in her green eyes when she finally met his gaze again.

"It doesn't have to be right now," he backpedaled when Laura did not immediately reply. "Not before you're ready, but..."

"Bill," Laura interrupted him, placing a finger on his lips and then tugging at his arm as she took a step backward. "Can we go in first?"

"Of course," he replied, surprised and a little hurt by her interruption. With a sinking heart, he followed her back to the tent.

 

A single oil lamp had been left on to bathe the tent in its warm, soft glow. On the small, rickety table lay a wooden basin filled with some kind of roots, accompanied by the remnants of the fish they'd eaten the day before, and fresh herbs.

"I prepared some dinner," Laura said as she gestured vaguely towards the table. Bill wondered if she was going to pretend they had not even talked about the cabin.

"It looks good," he replied wanly, taking a seat by the table. There was not much he could say before Laura acknowledged his earlier suggestion one way or another.

She sat down opposite him but did not move to start eating. Instead, after a short silence, she reached for his hand across the table. Bill remained still, waiting for her to speak.

When Laura finally opened her mouth, her lips seemed to form a single word but no sound came out. She cleared her throat and tried again:

"Yes," she said hoarsely, giving Bill's hand a little squeeze.

"Yes?" he breathed, scarcely daring to believe she meant what he thought she meant.

"I want to start building a home, Bill," Laura replied slowly, weighing her words carefully. "This," she gestured at the tent around them, perhaps meaning the entire encampment. "This isn't our home."

" _Our_ home?" Bill repeated hopefully.

"Our home, Bill," Laura confirmed, her lips curving into a slight smile. "It's always been between you and me, hasn't it?" she added then, thoughtfully. "Even before it really was."

"That's right," Bill agreed, letting out a solitary chuckle at the now so distant memory. "Even when we couldn't stand each other." Then he sobered again as another thought occurred to him. "Why, have you remembered something new?"

Laura shook her head. "No," she replied to Bill's disappointment. "I mean, not really. Some more fragments from those early days..." She paused and smiled ruefully at Bill. "Mainly memories of myself and Billy on Colonial One."

"He was a good kid," Bill replied somberly, remembering the young aide and the sorrow his death had caused Laura. He could still see her face crumbling in the morgue even as she had tried to hold it together, and his heart ached for her.

"I'm starting to remember that," Laura sighed, bending her head down. "I was always sad to know he had perished, but it's different now that I can really remember him - not just as someone I had seen a few times at the ministry, but as someone who was there when..." She trailed off as her voice broke and then shook her head, unable to finish the thought.

"I know you were close," Bill replied, pulling Laura's hand closer to himself and rubbing it gently with his thumb. She looked at their intertwined hands.

"I didn't think it would be this hard," she spoke after a beat. "Remembering, I mean. I thought everything would get easier once I started to remember but..."

"I thought that too," Bill admitted, smiling ruefully at Laura. "I realize now it was naive to expect that, given everything we have been through, and all the things I'd rather forget myself if I could. I just wanted so badly for you to remember me that I didn't give enough thought to everything else you'd have to remember as well."

Laura sighed. "I'd like to remember the good times," she spoke wistfully. "I'd like to remember you." She paused, glanced at Bill, gave him a slight smile, and then looked down at their joined hands again. "I mean, the you I think I fell in love with, eventually. All I remember now is a Commander who could barely tolerate me, and a President who could barely tolerate the Commander."

"We were both in over our heads," Bill replied, wanting to reassure her. "I thought you were unfit to be the President but how was I really any more fit to command an entire fleet? I had only ever commanded a battlestar before and if it weren't for you, I would have gotten every single one of us killed on that first day."

"I'm sure it wasn't..." Laura began to say but then paused mid-sentence, her eyes glazing over as her mind seemed to go elsewhere. Bill froze, recognizing the sudden change in her as something similar to what had happened while they had been in the pond together.

He was certain she was remembering something.

"Laura?" he prompted gently, almost afraid to disturb her.

"Rain..." she whispered, her eyes still unfocused.

Bill paused and listened for the familiar sound of raindrops tapping against the tent canvas, but he could hear nothing. It was not raining outside.

"Rain?"

At last Laura's eyes seemed to focus on him again. Bill was glad this time she had not felt the need to rush out into the night.

"We were sitting under a tarp," Laura finally spoke, her words hesitant as if she could not quite make sense of what she was remembering. "It was raining."

Bill could feel a wave of relief wash over him. Kobol.

"You called me Laura," she said, a slow, tentative smile grazing her lips.

"I told you I owe my life, and my son's life, to you," Bill replied, squeezing her hand, returning her smile.

Laura looked thoughtful for a moment.

"I remember that," she said at last. "You forgave me," she added, her voice reaching an almost teasing note.

Bill smiled. "Even though you didn't ask for my forgiveness."

"Well, I'm still glad to have it," Laura replied, patting his hand. 

They sat in companionable silence for a while until she finally withdrew her hand and began dishing out their already cooled meal. As Bill held out his plate, he could only smile at the simple domesticity of the moment, feeling that whatever gap had formed between them during the past few days had finally been bridged again.

That night they fell asleep in their respective cots, talking about the cabin they would build.


	15. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is it! The final chapter of this saga, sort of. I still intend to write an epilogue that zooms a little bit further into the future, but other than that, I believe we're at the end now. Thank you to everyone who has stuck by even though it has sometimes taken me forever to update, and especially big thanks to all who have commented. It's been a pleasure to write. :)

Laura could feel her eyes well up as she stepped out of the raptor, taking in the beautiful scenery that opened before her.

It looked exactly like Bill had described, only more beautiful than any words could ever do justice to.

Home. It was home. She could picture it as clearly as she could see the nearby treetops swaying in the slight wind.

She had taken a huge leap of faith, agreeing to leave everything behind and come here to start a life together with Bill, just the two of them, but looking at the view opening before her now, Laura knew she had made the right choice. She could see herself living here.

"Do you think this is anything like what you had planned in New Caprica?" Bill's voice addressed her from behind. He was still inside the raptor, unloading it.

Laura shook her head without turning to look. "I don't know, but from what you've told me, I can't imagine any part of that planet looking as heavenly as this," she replied dreamily, leaving Bill behind as she walked forward to get a closer look at the lake.

"Beautiful," she breathed when she reached the shore and crouched down to splash the water with her fingers. It felt cool against her warm skin - refreshing on a hot summer's day. Perfect for swimming in later.

With a happy smile, Laura got up again and returned to the raptor to help Bill with the boxes they had brought: books, some clothes, basic equipment they'd need for the construction work they were about to start...most of them items they had brought with them from Galactica, anticipating they might yet be useful. Some of them skirted the line of the rules they had agreed to, but mostly they had stuck to the decision to let go of all modern technology. It wasn't as if they were going to have electricity anyway to use anything too complicated, even though Bill had salvaged a couple of solar panels for their use "just in case".

Laura rather suspected he might want to keep the raptor, too, just in case. The “case” being that if she got ill, he would be able to fly her to the village for a doctor. It was a noble intention, but not what had been agreed upon. For her part, Laura was prepared to remain where they now where, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health. She just wasn’t sure if she would ever be able to convince Bill of it.

"Should we set up the tent first?" she asked, putting the thought aside for later examination as she rummaged through the items in the back of the raptor, finally hauling out the old tent canvas. "I'd like to get that out of the way so we can spend the rest of the day exploring the site."

She watched as Bill set down the box he had picked up and walked over to her. His warm smile as he took the canvas from Laura's arms sent a flutter down her stomach. Things had been good again between them lately. In the few days that had followed the decision to move, they had spent a lot of time together making plans and packing up the things they would need. They had even taken a day to visit Dr. Cottle in his new home and left him with the coordinates of where they would stay, in case he ever wanted to visit.

Laura had not regained any new memories during the days that had passed in busy preparation, but it did not concern her. In fact, though she could not bring herself to tell Bill, she had done her best to push away any thoughts that might lead to those emerging memories, afraid of what demons might be unleashed again if she remembered something she would rather have kept forgotten.

It would all come eventually, she was almost sure of it now, but there was only so much she felt she could take at once. She wanted to remember Bill - all of what they had shared - but she knew it would not be possible to pick and choose which memories she wanted back. Besides, as she looked at Bill now, their hands grazing each other under the tent canvas Laura was still partly holding on to, she knew she didn't need to remember. What she felt for Bill - whatever it was - was independent of what she could remember. The fondness she felt was for the man who had stood by her when she had lost over 5 years of her life and been lost and alone on an abandoned battlestar at the end of the world, with no one there that she knew or remembered knowing. It was for the man who had stayed when she had tried to push him away.

"Laura?" Bill's raspy voice pulled her gently back to the present.

"Hmm?" she hummed, her eyes focusing on his inquiring blue ones again.

"Are you remembering something?" he asked hopefully.

Laura looked down guiltily. She knew how important it was to him that she would remember. Sometimes she wondered, despite his assurances to the contrary, if he would always miss some part of her that she could not give him - that part that could only return with the memories that were still missing.

She bit her lip and then shook her head slightly.

"No," she replied, letting the tent canvas finally pass from her arms to his. "Just...thinking about what a long way we've come to be here now."

A long way from Caprica. A long way even from the day she had woken up with no memory of the journey.

If any disappointment crossed Bill's face at her admission, he covered it quickly with a smile that looked genuine.

"We certainly have," he replied softly. "And I wouldn't want to be at the end of it with anyone else."

Laura hummed a non-committal agreement, not trusting her own mind and heart enough yet to admit that she, too, was happy to be here with him. Maybe someday. Someday soon.

"So how about that tent now?" she asked after a beat, smiling so as not to discourage Bill even though she had chosen to change the subject.

He looked a little stricken but then nodded his head and looked over towards the lake before his eyes returned to Laura. "Where would you like to set it up?"

"Well," Laura drawled, casting her eyes over the valley as well, trying to focus again on what was purely practical. "It'll probably still be our home for a while, so it should be somewhere nice," she hummed. "But sheltered too," she added. "Close to water."

They both took a moment to scan the area. After a while, Bill lifted his finger, pointing towards a secluded spot by the stream. It was a spot by the edge of the valley, just before the ground began to rise towards the mountains, covered in soft green grass and sheltered on one side by a few sturdy trees.

"There," he said. "It's close to drinking water and the trees and the face of the hill will give it cover from most winds."

"Perfect," Laura breathed, closing her eyes for a moment as she pictured their temporary home. She could almost feel her ever strengthening muscles aching to get started with the work on the permanent one.

 

"Cubit for your thoughts?" Bill asked a few minutes later as they were hauling the tent supplies over to the selected spot. Laura had been lost in quiet reflection again. A memory, unbeckoned, had been tugging at the corner of her mind. She smiled coyly as she turned to look at Bill.

"Oh, just a stream of consciousness, really," she replied. "Mainly I was thinking about where we're going to build the cabin."

_A wisp of sweet, intoxicating smoke._

_Bill, but with a bushy mustache._

Bill slowed down, adjusting the tent canvas in his arms to momentarily free a hand. He pointed towards a spot further down the stream, close to the lake. "How about there?" he suggested.

_"I'm thinking of building a cabin."_

"I was thinking we could have an easterly view," Bill went on. "We could enjoy the beautiful sunrises over the lake."

Laura forced her mind back to the present. She looked at Bill and felt a rush of warmth as she met his keen eyes, looking at her so full of hope for the future.

The cabin had been her dream, she knew. He had taken it on and kept it alive when she had lost it - and now it belonged to them both again.

Her lips curved into a smile.

"That sounds perfect," she hummed contentedly. If her hands had not been full, she might have reached out to touch Bill, but they still had a tent to build. Unless...

She remembered cool night air. That same sweet smoke lingering in the air around them – and above them.

_"Is this really it, Bill? Is this how we're going to spend all the rest of our days?"_

Laura felt a shudder run through her, as if the cool night, now long past, had suddenly caught up with her. She remembered how she had felt then, nestled safely against Bill's side, one hand resting on his chest, content to be right where she was in that moment.

With a start, she recognized it as the same feeling she felt in his presence now.

It was safety. Not the kind of safety she had once, in her previous life, mistaken for settling – something to be avoided like the plague. No. It was the opposite. Bill was the kind of safety that meant home. A rock to build a life on.

"You're thinking again," Bill nudged her gently.

"I-I was," Laura admitted haltingly, barely able to meet his eyes as she suddenly felt overwhelmed by her realization. She forced herself to look up, however, wanting to see his face. "I was thinking that maybe we could sleep under the stars tonight," she suggested in a soft voice.

"Laura..." Bill's tone was reluctant. She knew he was thinking of all the dangers that came with being so exposed, out in the wild.

"Like that night on New Caprica," she ventured, her voice coming out as barely more than a squeak. It had to be New Caprica. There was no other possible place where these fleeting images could belong.

Bill's face seemed to light up instantly.

"You remember?" he asked, putting down the tent canvas to free his hands so he could cup her face.

"Only fragments," Laura replied, afraid that the confession would be a disappointment to Bill. She was not sure she could take that look from him now.

But she need not have worried. Bill looked as pleased as Laura had ever seen him – at least as far she could remember.

"That was a good night," he replied, his thumb brushing her cheek gently, up and down.

Laura was sure it had been. She nodded, leaning slightly against his touch. The tent poles she had been carrying slid to the ground without her really noticing.

She could love him, she thought. Perhaps not yet like she once had, but she understood now, or at least she thought she did, how it had begun.

"This is it, Bill," she breathed, repeating the words that still echoed in her mind from the past. Only this time there was no question in them. "This is how we're going to spend all the rest of our days."

Laura could hear Bill's breath catch in his throat…a choked sound that was almost like a sob. His blue eyes glistened in the sunlight.

"So say we all," he said after a heavy pause, his voice barely above a whisper.

"So say we all," Laura repeated, a tremor running through her own voice as she placed her hand on top of his over her cheek.

Another beat passed and then Bill pulled her into his embrace, burying his face in the soft strands of her still so short hair. There, in his arms, Laura knew with certainty that she was home.

She knew that even if she never gained another memory, she had found what mattered the most. She had found her Bill again. She had found her home.


	16. Epilogue: And they lived

Bill woke up to sunlight peeking through the open window, a light, pleasant breeze filling his lungs with sweet summer air. There was no glass on the window, of course, but on cooler nights they closed the wooden hatches to stay warm. This had not been one of those nights.

"Morning," he mumbled sleepily, his hand feeling for Laura by his side but finding only twisted sheets. He curbed the momentary panic that rose in his chest - still his initial gut reaction to not knowing where Laura was - and called out her name: "Laura?"

The cabin was quiet. Tossing aside the well worn blanket they had brought with them from Galactica, Bill got up and padded through their small living area and peaked into the tiny kitchen. No Laura.

He opened the front door and stepped onto the porch. "Laura?" he tried again, reminding himself that his fear was irrational. They had never had any trouble with wild animals in their secluded little valley and she wouldn't go far by herself, at least not without letting him know first.

"Here, Bill!" he finally heard Laura call back.

Bill released the breath he had instinctively been holding and stepped off the porch, turning towards the sound of the voice. She was in the garden. Of course. She had made the garden her mission while Bill, and sometimes Lee, had been toiling on the more physically demanding aspects of building the cabin and, thanks to her, they had enjoyed their first harvest on the same month they had celebrated finishing the work on the cabin.

It hadn't been much yet that first time but, determined to learn from her mistakes, Laura had soon returned to work and expanded the garden. In the months that followed, they had planned and carried out several improvements and small changes together and this year, their second on the planet, they were already looking at a much more promising growth. Within a couple of more years, Bill believed, they would be able to grow most of their own food. Until then, they could get by through other means, because food was plentiful and easy to find even in the wild, and once every month or so they took a boat down the river to the thriving settlement that was now starting to look more like a village. There they exchanged Bill's woodwork and Laura's herbs for any necessities that were otherwise more difficult to come by. The village was not particularly close, but they prefered it that way. If they left early in the morning, they had just enough time to spend a couple of hours there and still return home before sunset.

"Here you are," Bill said as he now approached Laura. She stood by the edge of the garden, looking at everything they had already managed to grow, but turned around to receive Bill's kiss as soon as he reached her side.

"Hmm, good morning to you too," she hummed softly against his lips before they pulled apart.

"I missed you in bed," Bill admonished her gently, playing with the flimsy fabric of the wrap she was wearing.

"You looked so peaceful in sleep I didn't want to wake you," Laura replied. She always had an answer that made too much sense to be argued against.

"I wouldn't have minded," Bill tried anyway, his arms loosely circling her waist.

"I'll remember that next time," Laura promised. "But you know," she added with a teasing smile, "I'm not going anywhere, so you can stop worrying. I'd think almost two years together would have convinced you of that."

"It's not that," Bill replied, playing with the auburn locks that had grown back to full length, thicker and stronger than ever. "I was so close to losing you I can't stop worrying that something might happen again."

"Something might always happen," Laura reminded him gently, growing serious. "And you don't get a monopoly on that worry," she added, brushing Bill's cheek with the tips of her fingers. "I worry about you too, you know. It's what people do when they love each other."

Bill nodded. Of course he knew. Sometimes, when he let the dark thoughts in, he wondered how she would fare if he died before her - alone in the cabin they had built together. If her cancer didn't return, and Bill prayed to any god that would listen that it would not, she probably _would_ outlive him. She was younger than him, after all. Bill hated the thought of Laura being left on her own almost as much as he feared being left alone himself, but he knew she had friends in the village, and Lee would see to it that she would never be left without care.

But sometimes he still worried. It was what he had gotten used to during the years when uncertainty of survival had been his constant companion.

"We can't spend our days worrying about when or how it's going to end." Laura's gentle voice brought Bill back from his thoughts, as if she had been able to read them. "We have been living on borrowed time since the day we decided to leave the Colonies and run."

"I know," Bill replied, pulling Laura a little closer and bringing her hand up to his lips. "I just get greedy."

"Hmm," Laura sighed, her lips grazing his briefly when he lowered her hand. "Maybe you can show me later how greedy."

"I could show you now," Bill replied, his fingers reaching for the knot securing her wrap.

"Hmm-mm," Laura hummed, shaking her head. She pointed towards the garden. "We have some weeds to uproot."

"Weeds?"

"Not that kind of weeds, Bill," Laura replied, swatting his wandering hand playfully away.

"Pity," he replied, finally letting go and crouching down to pull at the unwanted growth. "I like the other kind better."

"Maybe we'll find something similar eventually," Laura replied, suppresing a giggle as she too crouched down to get her hands dirty.

Bill smiled, shaking his head.

He had never known before how much happiness could be found in such simple tasks and pleasures, but with Laura it was all he could ask for. In a couple of hours they would be done with the weeds and then they would inevitably have to strip down and dip into the lake to wash the dirt away. Then they would sit on the porch and let the sun dry their skin before going in to prepare a meal together. Later they might go for a walk, hand in hand, or stay on the porch and tell each other stories. It was what they had started doing after finally running out of books to read.

Bill had stopped asking long ago whether Laura remembered something new from their past because it had stopped mattering equally long ago. She was Laura and that was all he needed to know. They belonged to each other by the vows they had exchanged, the blossoming valley around them the only witness they had needed.

Sometimes Laura still shared with him a new memory that had returned, but those times were growing fewer and farther between. Bill suspected the last couple of months leading up to her operation would probably remain lost to her forever, but even so, there were times Laura would wake up in the middle of the night in cold sweat, heart thumping so fast it scared Bill until he was able to calm her down again. Those nights he would wrap his arms around her and rock her gently back to a more peaceful slumber. Usually she never told him what she had dreamed of, but one night, when she had held him tighter than usual and sobbed quietly into his shoulder, Bill had just been able to discern the words _"They told me you were dead."_ He hadn't let go of her that night even after she had fallen back to sleep.

 

"You're very somber today," Laura's voice broke through Bill's reverie. He looked up, his worn features easing into a smile as their eyes met.

"Anything I can do to change that?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Bill shook his head. She was already doing everything she needed to do, simply by drawing breath. "You being right there is perfectly enough," he replied, nudging her gently.

Laura's lips curved into a smile and she paused her work long enough to give him a brief kiss. "I love you, too, Bill," she murmured simply as she turned her attention back to the weeds.

He would never grow tired of hearing it - nor would he grow tired of showing her his love in return.


End file.
